UC-NRLF 


> 


GIFT   OF 
A.    P.   Morrison 


f.r 


OT\ 


YORK.  D.  APPIiRTON  &  C°   90    92  &  94  GRAND  ST 


THE 


POETICAL  WORKS 


or 


JOHN     MILTON. 


A   BIOGRAPHY    OF   THE    AUTHOR, 


BY  HIS  NEFIIEW.  EDWARD  PHILIPS. 


NEW  YORK: 

D.  APPLETON   <fe   COMPANY 

649    &    551    BROADWAY. 

1872. 


GIFT  OP 

A.F. 


8          t   «     e       t     <.       < 


<      '  i          < 


,          .     ,      i        *    e 


INTRODUCTION. 


THE  Life  of  Milton,  by  his  nephew  and  pupil,  Edward  Philips,  has 
been  reprinted  and  prefixed  to  this  edition  of  the  poetical  \v> 
It  is  the  most  fall  and  faithful  memoir  of  the  external  circumstances 
of  the  poet,  and  it  cannot  be  read  without  perceiving  that  the  au- 
thor had  no  political  or  partial  object  In  the  biography.  It  has  been 
justly  remarked  that  Philips  knew  much  more  of  Milton  than  he 
has  told  •  and  that  if  he  could  have  foreseen  the  future  national  en- 
*husiasm  and  interest  in  his  ancle's  biography  and  works,  he  would 
hot  have  confined  himself  within  such  narrow  limits.  Bat  insuffi- 

as  the  narrative  may  be  for  the  worshippers  of  Milton, 
certainly  the  most  copious  and  exact  detail  of  the  private  and  pub- 
lic life  of  any  early  English  poet. 

Tho  genuineness  and  authenticity  of  the  memoir  cannot  be 
doubted.    It  originally  appeared  in  a  small  duodecimo  volum 

:,  "  Letters  of  State,  written  by  Mr.  John  Milton,  to  most  ot 
the  sovereign  princes  and  republics  of  Europe,  from  the  year  1G49 
till  the  year  1659.    To  which  is  added  an  account  of  his  Life.    To- 
gether with  several  of  his  Poems ;  and  a  catalogue  of  his  \v 
never  before  printed.    London.    Printed  in  the  year  1694."    The 
name  of  Edward  Philips  does  not  appear  to  the  book.    It  is,  how- 
ever, ascribed  to  him  by  Toland,  in  his  Life  of  Milton,  1698,  pub- 
lished while  the  younger  Philips  was  still  living ;  and 
mentions  that  he  had  seen  a  copy,  which,  from  a  note  in  the  1 
ng  of  Philips,  had  been  presented  by  Edward  Philips  to  a  :. 
as  the  production  of  his  own  pen. 

The  zealous  and  industrious  research  of  the  numerous  biogru- 

n  and  editors  of  Milton,  as  far  as  relates  to  the  poetical  -w 
has  left  nothing  to  be  added  to  the  valuable  stores  of  their  largo 
collections ;  and  the  limits  of  this  edition  will  not  admit  any  de- 
tailed account  of  their  several  labors  and  criticisms.  Annual  re- 
prints of  the  poems,  with  volumes  of  biography  and  commentary, 
have,  from  year  to  year,  displayed  the  increasing  public  interest  in 
the  character  and  works  of  Milton.  The  reader,  however,  must 
here  content  himself  with  a  brief  and  general  reference  to  the 


M1073O3 


,4;      ',  jINTUOpycJTtoN. 

'.    ,'  ',''','    '' 

•  cri^hial  and  subsequent  editions  of  tne  poems,  and  a  chronological 

notice  of  the  most  popular  annotations  and  biographies :— we  can 
point  out  to  him  the  right  road,  though  we  cannot  accompany  him 
in  his  travels. 

The  first  publication  of  Milton  appeared  in  small  octavo,  pp.  214, 
entitled,  "  Poems  of  Mr.  John  Milton,  both  English  and  Latin, 
compos'd  at  several  times.  Printed  by  his  true  copies."  The  songs 
were  set  in  musick  by  Mr.  Henry  Lawes  Gentleman  of  the  Kings 
Chappel,  and  one  of  his  Majestie's  private  musick.  Printed  and 
published  according  to  order.  London.  Printed  by  Ruth  Kaworth 
for  Humphrey  Moseley,  and  are  to  be  sold  at  the  signe  of  the 
Princes  Arms  in  Pauls  Church  Yard,  1645."— From  the  preface  of 
"  The  Stationer  to  the  Reader,"  prefixed  to  this  volume,  it  is  evi- 
dent that  the  poetical  character  of  Milton  was  thus  early  known  and 
admired.  It  has  been  a  vulgar  error,  of  general  belief  even  in  the 
present  day,  that  the  works  of  Milton  were  unknown  and  neglected 
till  the  last  century. 

"  The  Stationer  to  the  fieader. 

"  It  is  not  any  private  respect  of  gain,  gentle  reader,  for  the 
slightest  pamphlet  is  nowadayes  more  vendible  than  the  words  of 
learnedest  men  ;  but  it  is  the  love  I  have  to  our  own  language  that 
hath  made  me  diligent  to  collect,  and  set  forth  such  peeces  both  in 
prose  and  verse,  as  may  renew  the  wonted  honour  and  esteem  of 
our  English  tongue  :  and  it's  the  worth  of  these  both  English  and 
Latin  poems,  not  the  flourish  of  any  prefixed  encomiums  that  can 
invite  thee  to  buy  them,  though  these  are  not  without  the  highest 
commendations  and  applause  of  the  learnedst  academics,  both  do- 
mestic and  forrein :  and  amongst  those  of  our  own  country,  the 
unparalleled  attestation  of  that  renowned  provost  of  Eaton,  Sir 
Henry  Wootton :  I  know  not  thy  palate  how  it  relishes  such  dain- 
ties, nor  how  harmonious  thy  soul  is ;  perhaps  more  trivial  airs  may 
please  thee  better.  But  howsoever  thy  opinion  is  spent  upon  these, 
that  encouragement  I  have  already  received  from  the  most  inge- 
nious men  in  their  clear  and  courteous  entertainment  of  Mr.  Waller's 
late  choice  peeces,  hath  once  more  made  me  adventure  into  the 
world,  presenting  it  with  these  ever-green,  and  not  to  be  blasted 
laurels.  The  authors  more  peculiar  excellency  in  these  studies,  was 
too  well  known  to  conceal  his  papers,  or  to  keep  me  from  attempt- 
ing to  solicit  them  from  him.  Let  the  event  guide  itself  which  way 
it  will,  I  shall  deserve  of  the  age,  by  bringing  into  the  light  as  true 
a  birth,  as  the  muses  have  brought  forth  since  our  famous  Spencer 
wrote  ;  whose  poems  in  these  English  ones  are  as  rarely  imitated. 


INTRODUCTION*.  5 

AS  sweetly  excellM.    Reader,  if  thou  art  eagle-eied  to  censure 
:i  not  fearful  to  expose  them  to  thy  exactest  perusal. 
"  Thine  to  command, 

MOSELET. 


Prefixed  to  the  Comas  in  this  original  edition,  are  the  following 
rs: 

"  To  the  R\gU  HonovraUe,  John  Lord  V\*ount  Brady,  ton  and  Mr 

apparent  to  the  Karl  of  BridgewaUr,  <tc. 
Lord,— 

"  This  poem,  which  receivM  its  first  occasion  of  birth  from  ; 
self  and  others  of  your  noble  family,  and  much  honour  from  your 
the  performance,  now  retains  again  to  make  a  final 
dedication  of  itself  to  yon.  Although  not  openly  acknowledged  by 
the  author,  yet  it  U  a  legitimate  offspring,  so  lovely  and  so  much 
desired,  that  the  often  copying  of  it  hath  tired  my  pen  to  giv 
several  friends  satisfaction,  and  brought  me  to  a  necessity  of  pro- 
ducing it  to  the  publike  view  ;  and  now  to  offer  it  up  in  all  rightful 
devotion  to  those  fair  hopes  and  rare  endowments  of  your  much- 
promising  youth,  which  give  a  full  assurance  to  all  that  know  you 
of  a  fUture  excellence.  Live  sweet  lord  to  be  the  honour  of  your 
name,  and  receive  this  as  your  own,  from  the  hands  of  him,  who 
hath  by  many  favours  been  long  oblig'd  to  your  most  honoured  pa- 
rents, and  as  in  this  representation  your  attendant  Thyrsis,  so  now 
in  all  real  expression, 

"  Your  faithful  and  most  humble  sen 

LAWZS." 

"  ne  oopy  of  a  Letter  written  by  Sir  Jhnry  Wootton,  to  the  Author, 
upon  the  following  Poem. 

"  From  the  College,  tbii  13th  of  April,  1638. 

- 

"  It  was  a  special  favour,  when  you  lately  bestowed  upon  me 
here,  the  first  taste  of  your  acquaintance,  though  no  Ion- 
make  me  know  that  I  wanted  more  time  to  value  it  and  to  enjoy  it 
rightly  ;  and  in  truth,  if  I  could  then  have  imagined  your  further 
stay  in  these  parts,  which  I  understood  afterwards  by  Mr.  II.  I 
would  have  been  bold  in  our  vulgar  phrase  to  mend  my  draught 
(for  you  left  me  with  an  extreme  thirst)  and  to  have  begged  your 
conversation  again,  joy  ntly  with  your  said  learned  friend,  at  a  poor 
meal  or  two,  that  we  might  have  banded  together  Borne  good  au- 
thors of  the  ancient  time  :  among  which  I  observed  you  to  have 
been  familiar. 

"  Since  your  going  you  have  charg'd  m*  with  new  obligations, 


6  INTRODUCTION. 

both  for  a  very  kinde  letter  from  you  dated  the  sixth  of  this  month, 
and  for  a  dainty  peece  of  entertainment  which  came  therwith. 
Wherin  I  should  much  commend  the  tragical  part,  if  the  lyrical 
did  not  ravish  me  with  a  certain  Doric  delicacy  in  your  songs  and 
odes,  wherunto  I  must  plainly  confess  to  have  seen  yet  nothing 
parallel  in  our  language :  "  ipsa  mollities."  But  I  must  not  omit 
to  tell  you,  that  I  now  onely  owe  you  thanks  for  intimating  unto 
me  (how  modestly  soever)  the  true  artificer.  For  the  work  itself, 
I  had  view'd  som  good  while  before,  with  singular  delight,  having 
receiv'd  it  from  our  common  friend  Mr.  E.  in  the  very  close  of  the 
late  E's  Poems,  printed  at  Oxford,  wherunto  it  was  added  (as  I 
now  suppose)  that  the  accessory  might  help  out  the  principal,  ac- 
cording to  the  art  of  stationers,  and  to  leave  the  reader  "  con  la 
bocca  dolce." 

"  Now  sir,  concerning  your  travels,  wherin  I  may  chalenge  a  little 
more  priviledge  of  discours  with  you ;  I  suppose  you  will  not  blanch 
Paris  in  your  way;  therfore  I  have  been  bold  to  trouble  you  with 
a  few  lines  to  Mr.  M.  B.  whom  you  shall  easily  find  attending 
the  young  lord  S.  as  his  governour,  and  you  may  surely  receive 
from  him  good  directions  for  the  shaping  of  your  farther  journey 
into  Italy,  where  he  did  reside  by  my  choice  som  time  for  the 
king,  after  mine  own  recess  from  Venice. 

"  I  should  think  that  your  best  line  will  be  thorow  the  whole 
length  of  France  to  Marseilles,  and  thence  by  sea  to  Genoa,  whence 
the  passage  into  Tuscany  is  as  diurnal  as  a  Gravesend  barge :  I 
hasten  as  you  do  to  Florence,  or  Siena,  the  rather  to  tell  your  short 
story  from  the  interest  you  have  given  me  in  your  sefety. 

"  At  Siena  I  was  tabled  in  the  house  of  one  Alberto  Scipioni,  an 
old  Eoman  courtier  in  dangerous  times,  having  bin  steward  to  the 
Duca  di  Pagliano,  who  with  all  his  family  were  strangled,  save  this 
only  man  that  escap'd  by  foresight  of  the  tempest :  with  him  I  had 
often  much  chat  of  those  affairs ;  into  which  he  took  pleasure  to 
look  back  from  his  native  harbour ;  and  at  my  departure  toward 
Eomo  (which  had  been  the  center  of  his  experience)  I  had  wonn 
confidence  enough  to  beg  his  advice,  how  I  might  carry  myseli 
securely  there,  without  offence  of  others,  or  of  mine  own  conscience. 
"  Signor  Arrigo  mio"  (says  he)  "  I  pensieri  stretti,  et  il  viso  sciolto" 
will  go  safely  over  the  whole  world :  of  which  Delphian  oracle  (for 
so  I  have  found  it)  your  judgment  doth  need  no  commentary ;  and 
therfore,  sir,  I  will  commit  you  with  it  to  the  best  of  all  securities, 
God's  dear  love,  remaining  your  friend  as  much  at  command  aa 
any  of  longer  date. 

HENRY  WOOTTON. 


INTRODUCTION.  7 

POSTSCRIPT. 

•'Sir,  I  have  expressly  sent  this  my  footboy  to  prevent  your  de- 
parture without  som  acknowledgement  from  me  of  the  receipt  of 
your  obliging  letter,  having  myself  through  som  busines,  I  know 
not  how,  neglected  tha  ordinary  conveyance.  In  any  part  where  I 
shall  understand  you  fixed,  I  shall  be  glad,  and  diligent  to  enter- 
you  with  home-novelties;  even  for  som  fomentation  of  our 
friendship,  too  soon  interrupted  in  the  cradle." 

In  1667,  Milton  published  in  small  quarto,  pp.  842,  without  Pre- 
face or  Introduction,  "Paradise  Lo>  em  written  in  ten 
books  by  John  Milton.    Licensed  and  entered  according  to  < 
London,  printed  and  are  to  be  sold  by  Peter  Parker  under  < 
h  near  Aldgate  ;  and  by  Robert  Boulter  at  the  Turks  ho 
Bishopsgate  street;  and  Matthias  Walker,  under  St.   Dunstans 
i  Fleet  Street,  1667."— This  early  title-page  is  extremely 
rare,  and  it  is  conjectured  that  a  very  partial  sale  only  of  the  im- 
pression, with  that  original  title,  could  have  been  effected.    The 
copyright  contract  of  Milton  with  the  bookseller  Simmons,  who 
insed  the  manuscript  poem,  U  now  in  the  possession  of  Mr. 
Pickering,  publisher  of  the  present  edition.     The  following  is  a 
correct  copy  of  this  classical  and  invaluable  rel. 

"  J/r.  Milton?*  Agreement  with  Mr.  Symons,  for  Paradise  Lost. 
dated  Yltk  April,  1667." 

"  These  Presents  made  the  27th  day  of  Aprill  1667,  between  John 
Milton,  gent,  of  the  one  part,  and  Samuel  Symons,  printer,  of  the 
other  part,  wittness  That  the  said  John  Milton  in  consideration  of 
livo  pounds  to  him  now  paid  by  the  said  Samuel  Symons,  and 
other  the  consideracons  herein  mentioned,  hath  given,  granted  and 
assigned,  and  by  these  piits  doth  give,  grant  and  assign  unto  the 
said  Sam11  Symoiis,  his  executors,  and  assignes,  All  that  Booke, 
Copy,  or  Manuscript  of  a  Poem  intituled  Paradise  Lost,  or  by  what- 
soever other  title  or  name  the  same  is  or  shall  be  called  or  distin- 
guished, now  lately  licensed  to  be  printed,  together  wi|h  the  full 
benefitt,  profit,  and  advantage  thereof,  or  w**  shall  or  may  arise 
thereby.  And  the  said  John  Milton  for  him,  his  ex™  and  adm", 
doth  covenant  wth  the  said  SamU  Symons,  his  ex"  and  ass*  that 
he  and  they  shall  at  all  times  hereafter  have,  hold  and  enjoy  the 
same  and  all  Impressions  thereof  accordingly,  without  the  lett  or 
hindrance  of  him  the  said  John  Milton,  his  ex™  or  ass1,  or  any  per- 
son or  persons  by  his  or  their  consent  or  privity  And  that  he  the 


8  INTRODUCTION. 

said  John  Milton,  his  ex"  or  adm"  or  any  other  by  his  or  their 
meanes  or  consent,  shall  not  print  or  cause  to  be  printed,  or  sell, 
dispose  or  publish  the  said  book  or  manuscript,  or  any  other  book 
or  manuscript  of  the  same  tenor  or  subject,  without  the  consent  of 
the  said  Sain11  Symons,  his  exra  or  ass* :  In  concideracon  whereof 
the  said  Same11  Symons  for  him,  his  ex™,  and  adm"  doth  covenant 
with  the  said  John  Milton,  his  ex",  and  ass8  well  and  truly  to  pay 
unto  the  said  John  Milton,  his  exrs,  and  adm"  the  sum  of  five 

ounds  of  lawfull  english  money  at  the  end  of  the  first  Impression, 
tfhich  the  said  Sam11  Symons,  his  ex",  or  asss  shall  make  and 
publish  of  the  said  copy  or  manuscript,  which  impression  shall  be 
accounted  to  be  ended  when  thirteen  hundred  books  of  the  said 
whole  copy  or  manuscript  imprinted,  shall  be  sold  and  retailed  off 
to  particular  reading  customers.  And  shall  also  pay  other  five 
pounds,  unto  the  said  John  Milton,  or  his  ass8  at  the  end  of  the 
second  impression,  to  be  accounted  as  aforesaid,  And  five  pounds 
more  at  the  end  of  the  third  impression,  to  be  in  like  manner  ac- 
counted. And  that  the  said  three  first  impressions  shall  not  ex- 
ceed fifteen  hundred  books  or  volumes  of  the  said  whole  copy,  or 
manuscript,  a  peice.  And  further,  that  he  the  said  Samuel 
Symons,  and  his  ex'8,  adm",  and  ass8  shall  be  ready  to  make  oath 
before  a  Master  in  Chancery  concerning  his  or  their  knowledge 
and  belief  of  or  concerning  the  truth  of  the  disposing  and  selling 
the  said  books  by  retail,  as  aforesaid,  whereby  the  said  Mr.  Milton 
is  too  be  entitled  to  his  said  money  from  time  to  time,  upon  every 
reasonable  request  in  that  behalf,  or  in  default  thereof  shall  pay 
the  said  five  pounds  agreed  to  be  paid  upon  every  impression,  as 
aforesaid,  as  if  the  same  were  due,  and  for  and  in  lieu  thereof.  In 
witness  whereof,  the  said  parties  have  to  this  writing  indented, 
interchangeably  sett  their  hands  and  scales  the  day  and  yeare  first 
above  written. 

JOHN  MILTON.      (Seal). 
Sealed  and  delivered  in  >   JOHN  FISHER. 

the  presence  of  us,      3   BENJAMIN  GREENE,  servt  to  Mr.  Milton. 

A  copy  of  the  first  edition,  with  Milton's  autograph,  is  in  the 
possession  of  the  publisher :  in  the  fly  leaf  is  the  following  Latin 
verse,  which  may  have  been  intended  by  the  poet  as  a  motto  to  a 
new  edition — 

Quantos  tune  gemitus  ipsi  sibi,  quantaq.  nobis 
Volnera,  quas  lacrymas  peperere  minoribu'  nostris  t 

Fifteen  hundred  copies  were  probably  printed  of  this  first  edition 
of  Paradise  Lost,  but  we  have  no  correct  account  of  the  periods  of 
sale.  Several  new  title-pages  have  been  noticed  by  different  collect- 


INTRODUCTION.  V 

ors  and  critics,  as  appended  to  the  original  sheets  during  iho  first 
three  years  of  publication.  The  title  generally  known  to  the  biblio- 
maniacs, as  the  third  title-page— viz.  "Paradise  Lost.  A  Poem  in 
ten  books.  The  Author  John  Milton.  London.  Printed  by  S. 
Simmons,  and  are  to  be  sold  by  T.  Holder  at  the  Angel  in  Little 
Brittain  1669,"  has  prefixed  to  the  original  sheets  several  ne\v 
pages  containing  the  argument,  remarks  on  the  metre,  and  a  list 
of  errata,  preceded  by  the  following  short  address. — "The  Printer 
to  the  Reader.  Courteous  Reader,  There  was  no  Argument  at  first 
intended  to  the  book,  but  for  the  satisfaction  of  many  that  have 
desired  it,  I  have  procured  it,  and  withall  a  reason  of  that  which 
stumbled  many  others,  why  the  Poem  rimes  not.  S.  Simmons." — 
This  "reason,"  evidently  from  the  above  passage,  was  the  composi- 
tion of  Milton,  which  indeed  the  bold  and  terse  spirit  of  it  would 
alone  sufficiently  prove :  as  it  is  seldom  prefixed  to  the  editions  of 
.s,  we  now  insert  it,  literally  extracted  from  the  edition  of 

"TUB  YKRSX." 

"  The  Measure  is  English  Heroic  Verse  without  Rime,  as  that  of 
Homer  in  Greek,  and  of  Virgil  in  Latin  ;  Rime  being  no  necessary 
Adjunct  or  true  Ornament  of  Poem  or  good  Verse,  in  longer  Works 
especially,  but  the  Invention  of  a  barbarous  Age,  to  set  off  wretched 
matter  and  lame  Meeter ;  grac't  indeed  since  by  the  use  of  some 
famous  modern  Poets,  carried  away  by  Custom,  but  much  to  thir 
own  vexation,  hindrance,  and  constraint,  to  express  many  things 
otherwise,  and  for  the  most  part  worse,  than  else  they  would  have 
exprest  them.  Not  without  cause,  therefore,  some  both  Italian  and 
Spanish  Poets  of  prime  note,  have  rejected  Rime  both  in  longer  and 
shorter  Works,  as  have  also,  long  since,  our  best  English  Trage- 
dies, as  a  thing  of  itself,  to  all  judicious  eares,  triveal  and  of  no 
true  musical  delight ;  which  consists  only  in  apt  Numbers,  fit 
quantity  of  Syllables,  and  the  sense  variously  drawn  out  from  one 
Verse  into  another,  not  in  the  jingling  sound  of  like  endings,  a 
fault  avoyded  by  the  learned  Ancients  both  in  Poetry  and  all  good 
Oratory.  This  neglect  then  of  Rime,  so  little  is  to  be  taken  for  a 
defect,  though  it  may  seem  so  perhaps  to  vulgar  Readers,  that  it 
rather  is  to  be  esteemM  an  example  set,  the  first  in  English,  oi 
ancient  liberty  recover' d  to  Heroic  Poem  from  the  troublesom  and 
modern  bondage  of  Rimeing." 

In  this  brief  and  modest  Introduction,  was  the  great  English 
Epic  first  made  known  to  the  public,  as  the  vessel  of  discovery 
slowly  weighs  anchor  and  proudly  sails  from  her  native  port  to 


10  INTRODUCTION. 

circumnavigate  the  earth.  Posterity  was  the  pole-star  in  which 
Milton's  ambition  and  expectations  implicitly  and  solely  trusted. 

A  critical  and  careful  collation  of  the  copies  of  Paradise  Lost, 
under  these  title-pages  of  different  dates,  will  discover  several 
variations  in  punctuation,  orthography,  and  paging,  and  sometimes 
a  change  of  words  of  one  syllable.  These  alterations  were  probably 
made  in  the  course  of  the  press  work,  which  may  have  been  stopped 
for  new  revised  proofs,  and  to  insert  amendments  occurring  to  the 
poet  in  the  progress  of  the  work  through  the  press.  His  blindness 
preventing  his  visual  correction  of  the  proof-sheets  might  occasion 
repeated  readings  to  him,  and  some  sheets  may  have  been  can- 
celled. 

In  1671,  Milton  again  appeared  before  the  public  as  a  Poet 
in  "Paradise  Regain'd,  a  Poem  in  iv  Books,  to  which  is  added 
Samson  Agonistes.  The  author  John  Milton.  London,  Printed 
by  J.  M.  for  John  Starkey  at  the  Mitre  in  Fleet  Street,  near 
Temple  Bar,  MDCLXXI."  Paradise  Eegained  was  published  in  the 
simple  and  unpretending  form  of  Paradise  Lost,  without  preface  or 
argument.  On  the  fly-  leaf  of  this  original  octavo  edition  is  printed 
"Licensed,  July  2.  1670." — Samson  Agonistes  is  preceded  by  the 
Argument,  the  Dramatis  Person*,  and  an  Introduction  of  thiee 
pages  on  Tragedy. 

Although  in  this  Introduction  to  the  present  edition,  a  notice 
only  of  the  original  editions  in  the  lifetime  of  Milton  is  intended, 
yet  a  passage  in  the  singular  autobiography  of  Thomas  Ellwood  the 
Quaker,  under  the  date  of  1665,  is  so  interesting  and  little  known, 
that  its  extract  cannot  fail  to  be  acceptable.  Ellwood  had  been  an 
old  pupil  of  Milton's,  and  occasionally  reader  to  him.  The  follow- 
ing is  the  passage  referred  to : 

"  Some  little  time  before  I  went  to  Alesbury  prison,  I  was  desired 
by  my  quondam  Master  Milton,  to  take  an  house  for  him,  in  the 
neighborhood  where  I  dwelt,  that  he  might  go  out  of  the  city,  for 
the  safety  of  himself  and  his  family,  the  pestilence  then  growing 
hot  in  London.  I  took  a  pretty  box  for  him  in  Giles-Chalfont,  a 
mile  from  me ;  of  which  I  gave  him  notice :  and  intended  to  have 
waited  on  him,  and  seen  him  well  settled  in  it ;  but  was  prevented 
by  that  imprisonment. 

"  But  now  being  released,  and  returned  home,  I  soon  made  a 
visit  to  him,  to  welcome  him  into  the  country. 

"  After  some  common  discourse  had  passed  between  us,  he  called 
for  a  manuscript  of  his ;  which  being  brought  he  delivered  it  to 
me,  bidding  me  take  it  home  with  me,  and  read  it  at  my  leisure,  and 
when  I  had  so  done,  return  it  to  him,  with  my  judgment  thereupon 


INTRODUCTION.  11 

"  When  I  came  home,  and  had  set  myself  to  read  it,  I  found  it 
was  that  excellent  poem,  which  he  entitled  Paradise  Lost.  After  I 
had,  with  the  best  attention,  read  it  through,  I  made  him  another 
visit  and  returned  him  his  book,  with  due  acknowledgment  of  the 
favour  he  had  done  me,  in  communicating  it  to  me.  He  asked  me 
how  I  liked  it,  and  what  I  thought  of  it;  which  I  modestly  but 
freely  told  him :  and  after  some  further  discourse  about  it,  I  pleas- 
antly said  to  him,  Thou  hast  said  much  here  of  Paradise  Lost ; 
but  what  hast  thou  to  say  of  Paradise  Found  ?  He  made  me  no 
answer,  but  sate  some  time  in  a  muse :  then  brake  off  that  dis- 
course and  fell  upon  another  subject. 

"  After  the  sickness  was  over,  and  the  city  was  cleansed  and  be- 
come safely  habitable  again,  he  returned  thither.  And  when  after- 
wards I  went  to  wait  on  him  there  (which  I  seldom  failed  of  doing, 
whenever  my  occasions  drew  me  to  London)  he  shewed  me  his 
second  Poem,  called  Paradise  Kegained ;  and  in  a  pleasant  tone 
said  to  me,  This  is  owing  to  you :  for  you  put  it  into  my  head,  by 
the  question  you  put  to  me  at  Chalfont ;  which  before  I  had  not 
thought  of.  But  from  this  digression  I  return  to  the  family  I  then 
lived  in." 

In  1673,  a  second  edition,  in  small  octavo,  of  the  Minor  Poems 
was  published— "  Poems,  &c.  upon  several  occasions  by  Mr.  John 
Milton.  Both  English  and  Latin,  &c.  composed  at  several  times. 
With  a  small  Tractate  of  Education  to  Mr.  Hartlib.  London. 
Printed  for  Tho.  Dring  at  the  White  Lion  next  Chancery  Lane 
End,  in  Fleet  Street.  1673."  To  the  English  poems  in  this  edi- 
tion were  first  added,— I.  Ode  on  the  Death  of  a  Fair  Infant. 
II.  At  a  Vacation  Exercise  in  the  College.  III.  On  the  New 
Forcers  of  Conscience  under  the  Long  Parliament.  IV.  Horace  to 
Pyrrha.  V.  Nine  Sonnets.  VI.  All  the  English  Psalms. — To  the 
Latin  Poems :  I.  Apologus  de  Kustico  et  Hero.  II.  Ad  Joannem 
Eousium.— The  epistle  from  Sir  Henry  Wootton  is  omitted. 

In  1674,  Paradise  Lost  was  republished  in  twelve  books—"  The 
second  edition,  Kevised  &  Augmented  by  the  same  Author.  Lon- 
don, Printed  by  S.  Simmons,  &c.  1674,"  small  octavo.  A  portrait  by 
Dolle  was  prefixed  to  this  edition,  in  which  also  first  appeared  the 
commendatory  verses  of  Barrow  and  Marvel. 

In  the  new  subdivision  and  increase  of  the  books  in  this  second 
edition  of  Paradise  Lost,  Milton  divided  the  seventh  and  tenth 
books  into  two  each,  the  length  of  the  original  seventh  and  tenth 
books  probably  suggesting  a  pause  in  the  narration.  On  this 
uew  distribution  of  the  Poem,  he  added  the  following  verses  to  the 
oeginning  of  those  books  which  are  now  the  eighth  and  twelfth. 


12  INTRODUCTION. 

Book  viii.  V.  1. 

"  The  angel  ended,  and  in  Adam's  ear, 
So  charming  left  his  voice,  that  he  a  while 
Thought  him  still  speaking ;  still  stood  fix'd  to  Lea: : 
Then,  as  new  waked,  thus  gratefully  replied." 

The  latter  part  of  the  verse  was  taken  from  the  line  in  tlie  firat 
edition — 

"  To  whom  thus  Adam  gratefully  replied." 

Book  xii.  V.  1. 

"  As  one  who  In  his  journey  bates  at  noon, 
Though  bent  on  speed :  so  here  th'  archangel  paused 
Betwixt  the  world  destroy'd,  and  world  restored  ; 
If  Adam  aught  perhaps  might  interpose : 
Then,  with  transition  sweet,  new  speech  resumes." 

Some  few  additions  were  also  made  to  the  poem,  the  notice  of 
which  will  interest  the  critical  reader. 

Book  v.  V.  637. 

"  They  eat,  they  drink,  and  with  refection  sweet 
Are  fill'd,  before  the  all-bounteous  king,"  &c. 

were  thus  enlarged  in  the  second  edition — 

"  They  eat,  they  drink,  and  in  communion  sweet 
Quaff  immortality,  and  joy,  (secure 
Of  surfeit,  where  full  measure  only  bounds 
Excess,)  before  the  all-bounteous  king,"  <Src 

Book  xi.  V.  484,  after, 
"  Intestine  stone,  and  ulcer,  colic-pangs," 

these  three  verses  were  added — 

"  Daemoniac  phrenzy,  moping  melancholy, 
And  moon-struck  madness,  pining  atrophy  ; 
Marasmus,  and  wide-wasting  pestilence." 

And  ver.  551,  of  the  same  book  (which  was  originally  thus  : 
"  Of  rendering  up.    Michael  to  him  replied") 

received  this  addition : 

14  Of  rendering  up,  and  patiently  attend 
My  dissolution.    Michael  replied." 

On  the  8th  of  November,  in  this  year,  1674,  Milton  died.  Toland, 
one  of  his  early  biographers,  says  that  "all  his  learned  and  great 
friends  in  London,  not  without  a  friendly  concourse  of  the  vulgar, 
accompanied  his  body  to  the  Church  of  St.  Giles,  near  Cripplegatc, 
where  he  lies  buried  in  the  chancel." 

Tn  contradiction  to  the  vulgar  opinion,  that  the  poetical  charade/ 


INTRODUCTION.  13 

of  Milton  was  scarcely  known  and  little  appreciated  during  his  life- 
time, the  striking  fact  appears  of  these  numerous  publications  of 
his  poems,  at  a  period  when  the  sale  and  advertisement  of  books 
was  very  limited,  the  range  of  readers  so  circumscribed,  and  the 
political  and  religious  factions  and  commotions  entirely  occupied 
men's  minds.  The  anecdote  of  Sir  John  Denham's  entering  the 
House  of  Commons,  with  a  proof-sheet  of  Paradise  Lost,  wet  from 
the  press,  and  on  being  questioned  concerning  the  paper,  declaring 
it  was  "part  of  the  noblest  poem  that  ever  was  written  in  any  lan- 
guage or  in  any  age,"  has  been  doubted,  though  without  reason ; 
and,  if  true,  proves  thus  early  a  just  and  public  appreciation  of  the 
genius  of  Milton.  In  1678,  a  third  edition  of  Paradise  Lost  was 
published.  Paradise  Regained,  and  Samson  Agonistes  were  re- 
printed in  1680,  from  which  time  innumerable  successive  editions 
have  issued  from  the  press. 

Lawes'  edition  of  Comus  was  printed  in  1637,  and  Lycidas  had 
appeared  in  1638,  in  the  Cambridge  verses.  Milton's  correspond- 
ence with  so  many  of  the  most  eminent  European  Literati,  and 
their  universal  resort  to  his  house  when  visiting  England,  attest, 
his  early  and  public  reputation.  The  Earl  of  Dorset,  Fleetwood, 
Shepard,  and  Dryden,  bear  early  and  ample  testimony  to  his  merit. 
Dryden,  the  poet  laureat,  in  1674,  had  adapted  from  Milton  a  pub- 
lished opera,  entitled,  "The  State  of  Innocence."  In  his  preface, 
Bryden  observes,  "  What  I  have  here  borrowed,  will  be  so  easily 
discerned  from  my  mean  productions,  that  I  shall  not  need  to  point 
the  reader  to  the  places— the  original  being  undoubtedly  one  of  the 
greatest,  most  noble  and  sublime  poems,  which  either  this  age  or 
nation  has  produced."  In  Dennis's  Letters,  Moral  and  Critical, 
1721,  p.  75,  Dennis  writes,  "Dryden,  however,  at  this  time  knew 
not  half  the  extent  of  Milton's  excellence,  as  more  than  twenty 
years  afterwards  he  confessed  to  me."  In  Koscommon's  Essay  on 
Translated  Verse,  published  in  1682,  a  passage  of  nearly  thirty  lines 
cites  an  abstract  of  Milton's  battle  of  the  fallen  angels  as  a  specimen 
of  the  "  noblest  kind  of  verse." 

The  first  express  and  published  prose  eulogy  of  Paradise  Lost 
that  has  yet  been  noticed,  is  by  Edward  Philips,  in  his  edition  ot 
Buchlerus,  published  exactly  two  years  after  Paradise  Lost.  He 
thus  speaks  of  his  illustrious  relative  : — "  Johannes  Miltonius, 
prseter  alia  quae  scripsit  elegantissma,  turn  Anglice,  turn  Latine, 
nuper  public!  juris  PAEADISUM  AMISSUM,  Poema,  quod,  sive  subli- 
mitatem  argument!,  sive  leporem  simul  et  majestatem  styli,  sive 
Bublimitatem  inventionis,  sive  similitudines  et  descriptions  quam 
maxime*  naturales,  respiciamus,  vere  Heroicum,  ni  fallor,  audiet 


14  INTRODUCTION 

plurimuin  enlm  suffrages  qui  non  nesciunt  judicare,  censetur  per- 
fectionem  hujns  generis  poematis  assecutuin  esse." 

"John  Milton,  besides  other  things  in  the  most  elegant  style  of 
composition  which  he  has  written,  both  in  Latin  and  English,  has 
lately  presented  at  the  bar  of  the  public  PARADISE  LOST  :  a  Poem, 
which,  whether  we  consider  the  majesty  of  the  subject,  or  the 
united  poignancy  and  loftiness  of  the  style,  or  the  sublimity  of  the 
invention,  or  the  propriety  and  felicity  of  the  similitudes  and  de- 
scriptions, will  receive,  if  I  do  not  mistake,  the  name  of  truly 
heroic,  and  is  adjudged  ly  the  suffrages  of  many,  not  unqualified  to 
decide  such  a  question,  to  have  reached  the  perfection  of  this  species 
cf  poetry." 

The  following  commendatory  verses  by  Barrow  and  Marvel,  be- 
fore noticed  as  prefixed  to  the  second  edition  of  Paradise  Lost 
are  additional  proofs  of  the   early  and  public  estimation  of  Mil 
ton's  muse.  

iy  pARAnismi:  AMISSAM  SUJIMI  POET^E  JOHANNIS  MILTONI. 

Qui  legis  Amissam  Paradisum,  grandia  magni 

Carmina  Miltoni,  quid  nisi  cuncta  legis? 
Res  cunctas,  et  cunctarum  primordia  rerum, 

Et  fata,  et  fines  continet  iste  liber. 
Intima  panduntur  magni  penetralia  mundi ; 

Scribitur  et  toto  quicquid  in  orbe  latet ; 
Terrseque,  tractusque  maris,  coelumque  profundum 

Sulphureumque  Erebi  flammivomumque  specus  ; 
Quaeque  colunt  terras,  portumqne  et  Tartara  caeoa, 

Quaeque  colunt  summi  lucida  regna  poli ; 
Et  quodcunque  ullis  conclusum  est  finibus  usquam, 

Et  sine  fine  Chaos,  et  sine  fine  Deng  ; 
Et  sine  fine  magis,  si  quid  magis  est  sine  fine, 

In  Christo  erga  homines  conciliatus  amor. 
Hasc  qui  speraret  quis  crederet  esse  futurum  ? 

Et  tamen  hsec  hodie  terra  Britanna  legit. 
O  quantos  in  bella  duces  I  quae  protulit  arma  I 

Quae  canit,  et  quanta,  praelia  dira  tuba. 
Coelestes  acies  t  atque  in  certamine  ccelum  t 

Et  quae  coelestes  pugna  deceret  agros  1 
Quantus  in  aetheriis  tollit  se  Lucifer  armis, 

Atque  ipso  graditur  vix  Michaele  minor  I 
Quantis,  et  quam  funestis  concurritur  iris 

Dum  ferus  hie  Stellas  protegit,  ille  rapit  I 
Dum  vulsos  montes  ceu  tela  reciproca  torquent, 

Et  non  mortali  desuper  igne  pluunt : 
Stat  dubius  cui  se  parti  concedat  Olympus, 

Et  metuit  pugnae  non  supresse  suae, 
At  simul  in  coelis  Messiae  insignia  fulgent, 

Et  currus  animes,  armaque  digna  Deo, 
Horrendumque  rotae  strident,  et  saeva  rotarnra 

Erumpuni  torvis  fulgura  lurainibus, 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

Et  flammae  vibrant,  et  vera  tonitrua  rauco 

Adrnistris  flammis  insonuere  Polo, 
Excidit  attonitis  mens  omnis,  et  impetus  omnis 

Et  cassis  dextris  irrita  tela  cadunt. 
Ad  pcenas  fugiunt,  et  ceu  foret  Orcus  asylum 

Infernis  certant  condere  se  tenebris. 
Cedite  Romani  scriptores,  cedite  Graii 

Et  quos  fama  recens  vel  celebravit  anus. 
Haec  quicunque  leget  tantum  cecinisse  putabit 

Maeonidem  ranas,  Virgilium  culices. 

SAMUEL  BARROW,  M.  D. 


ON  PARADISE  LOST. 

WHEN  I  beheld  the  poet  blind,  yet  bold, 
In  slender  book  his  vast  design  unfold, 
Messiah  crowu'd,  God's  reconciled  decree, 
Rebelling  angels,  the  forbidden  tree, 
Heaven,  hell,  earth,  chaos,  all ;  the  argument 
Held  me  a  while  misdoubting  his  intent, 
That  he  would  ruin  (for  I  saw  him  strong) 
The  sacred  truths  to  Fable  and  old  song, 
(So  Samson  groped  the  temple's  posts  in  spite,) 
The  world  o'erwhelming  to  revenge  his  sight. 

Yet  as  I  read,  soon  growing  less  severe, 
I  liked  his  project,  the  success  did  fear  ; 
Through  that  wide  field  how  he  his  way  should  find 
O'er  which  lame  faith  leads  understanding  blind  ; 
Lest  he  perplex'd  the  things  he  would  explain, 
And  what  was  easy  he  should  render  vain. 
Or  if  a  work  so  infinite  he  spann'd, 
Jealous  I  was  that  some  less  skilful  hand 
(Such  as  disquiet  always  whnt  is  well, 
And  by  ill  imitating  would  excel) 
Might  hence  presume  the  whole  creation's  day 
To  change  scenes,  and  show  it  in  a  play. 

Pardon  me,  mighty  poet,  nor  despise 
My  causeless,  yet  not  impious  surmise. 
But  I  am  now  convinced,  and  none  will  dare 
Within  thy  labors  to  pretend  a  share. 
Thou  hast  not  miss'd  one  thought  that  could  be  fit, 
And  all  that  was  improper  dost  omit : 
So  that  no  room  is  here  for  writers  left, 
But  to  detect  their  ignorance  or  theft. 

That  majesty  which  through  thy  work  doth  reigo 
Draws  the  devout,  deterring  the  profane. 
4.nd  things  divine  thou  treat'st  of  in  such  state 
As  them  preserves,  and  thee,  inviolate. 
At  once  delight  and  horror  on  us  seize, 
Thoa  sing'st  with  so  much  gravity  and  ease, 
And  above  human  flight  dost  soar  aloft 
With  plume  so  strong,  so  equal,  and  so  soft. 
The  bird  named  from  that  paradise  you  sing 
So  never  flays,  but  always  keeps  on  wing. 


18  INTRODUCTION*. 

Where  couldst  thou  words  of  such  a  compass  find  f 
Whence  furnish  such  a  vast  expanse  of  mind? 
Just  heaven  thee  like  Tiresias  to  requite, 
Rewards  with  prophecy  thy  loss  of  sight. 
Well  might'st  thou  scorn  thy  readers  to  allure 
With  tinkling  rhyme,  of  thy  own  sense  secure  ; 
While  the  town-bayes  writes  all  the  while  and  spells, 
And  like  a  pack-horse  tires  without  his  bells : 
Their  fancies  like  our  bushy-points  appear, 
The  poets  tag  them,  we  for  fashion  wear. 
I  too  transported  by  the  mode  offend, 
And  while  I  meant  to  praise  thee  must  commend. 
Thy  verse  created  like  thy  theme  sublime, 
In  number,  weight,  and  measure,  needs  not  rhyme. 

ANDREW  MARVEL. 

The  numerous  English  poetical  eulogia  en  Milton  would  alone 
form  a  volume.  But  we  must  content  ourselves  with  inserting 
the  following  elegant  translations  by  Cowper  of  the  complimentary 
verses  addressed  to  him,  in  Latin  and  Italian,  by  distinguished 
literary  contemporaries. 

THE  NEAPOLITAN  JOHN  BAPTIST  MANSO,   MARQUIS   OF  VILLA,   TO   THF 
ENGLISHMAN  JOHN  MILTON. 

WHAT  features,  form,  mien,  manners,  with  a  mind 
Oh  how  intelligent !  and  how  refined  I 
Were  but  thy  piety  from  fault  as  free, 
Thou  wouldst  no  Angle  but  an  Angel  be. 


AN   EPIGRAM  ADDRESSED  TO  THE    ENGLISHMAN  JOHN     MILTON,   A  POE1 
WORTHY  OF  THREE   LAURELS,   THE  GRECIAN,   LATIN,   AND  ETRUSCAN, 

BY  JOHN  SALSILLO   OF  ROME. 

• 

MELES  and  Mincio,  both  your  urns  depress, 
Sebetus  boast  henceforth  thy  Tasso  less, 
But  let  the  Thames  o'erpeer  all  floods,  since  he 
For  Milton  famed  shall,  single,  match  the  three. 

TO  JOHN  MILTON. 

GREECE,  sound  thy  Homer's,  Rome,  thy  Yirgil's  name, 
But  England's  Milton  equals  both  in  fame.  SELVAGGI. 

AM  ODE  ADDRESSED  TO  THE  ILLUSTRIOUS  ENGLISHMAN  MR.  JOHN  MIITON 
BY  SIQNIOR  ANTONIO  FRANCINI,    GENTLEMAN,    OF  FLORENCE. 

EXALT  me,  Clio,  to  the  skies, 

That  I  may  form  a  starry  crown 

Beyond  what  Helicon  supplies 

In  laureate  garlands  of  renown  \ 
To  nobler  worth  be  brighter  glory  given, 
And  to  a  heavenly  mind  a  recompense  from  heaven. 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

Time's  wasteful  hunger  cannot  prey 

On  everlasting  high  desert, 

Nor  can  Oblivion  steal  away 

Its  record  graven  on  the  heart ; 
Lodge  but  an  arrow,  Virtue,  on  the  bow 
That  bends  my  lyre,  and  Death  shall  be  a  vanquish'd  foei 

In  ocean's  blazing  flood  enshrined 

Whose  vassal  tide  around  her  sv^lls, 

Albion  from  other  realms  disjoin'd 

The  prowess  of  the  world  excels  ; 
She  teems  with  heroes,  that  to  glory  rise 
With  more  than  human  force  in  our  astonish'd  eyes. 

To  Virtue,  driven  from  other  lands, 

Their  bosoms  yield  a  safe  retreat ; 

Her  law  alone  their  deed  commands  ; 

Her  smiles  they  feel  divinely  sweet. 
Confirm  this  record,  Milton,  generous  youth! 
And  by  true  virtue  prove  thy  virtue's  praise  a  truth. 

Zeuxis,  all  energy  and  flame, 

Set  ardent  forth  in  his  career  ; 

Urged  to  his  task  by  Helen's  fame 

Resounding  ever  in  his  ear  ; 
To  make  his  image  to  her  beauty  true, 
From  the  collected  fair  each  sovereign  charm  he  drew. 

The  bee  with  subtlest  skill  endued 

Thus  toils  to  earn  her  precious  juice, 

From  all  the  flowery  myriads  strew  rd 

O'er  meadow  and  parterre,  profuse  ; 
Confederate  voices  one  sweet  air  compound, 
And  various  chords  consent  in  one  harmonious  sound. 

An  artist  of  celestial  aim, 

Thy  genius,  caught  by  moral  grace, 

With  ardent  emulation's  flame 

The  steps  of  Virtue  toil'd  to  trace, 
Observed  in  every  land  who  brightest  shone, 
And  blending  all  their  best,  made  perfect  good  thy  own. 

From  all,  in  Florence  born,  or  taught 

Our  country's  sweetest  accent  there, 

Whose  works,  with  learned  labor  wrought. 

Immortal  honors  justly  share, 
Thou  hast  such  treasure  drawn  of  purest  ore, 
That  not  e'en  Tuscan  bards  can  boast  a  richer  store. 

Babel  confused,  and  with  her  towers 

TJnfinish'd  spreading  wide  the  plain, 

Has  served  but  to  evince  thy  powers 

With  all  her  tongues  confused  in  vain, 
Since  not  alone  thy  England's  purest  phrase 
But  every  polish'd  realm  thy  various  speech  displays. 

The  secret  things  of  heaven  and  earth, 
By  Xature,  too  reserved,  conceal'd 


18  INTRODUCTION, 

From  other  minds  of  highest  -worth, 

To  th«e  are  copiously  re  veal' d, 
Thou  know'st  them  clearly,  and  thy  views  attain 
The  utmost  bounds  prescribed  to  moral  Truth's  domain. 

Let  Time  no  more  his  wing  display, 

And  boast  his  ruinous  career, 

For  Virtue  rescued  from  his  sway 

His  injuries  may  cease  to  fear  ; 
Since  all  events,  that  claim  remembrance,  find 
A  chronicle  exact  in  thy  capacious  mind. 

Give  me,  that  I  may  praise  thy  song, 

Thy  lyre,  by  which  alone  I  can, 

Which,  placing  thee  the  stars  among, 

Already  proves  thee  more  than  man  ; 
And  Thames  shall  seem  Permessus,  while  his  stream, 
Graced  with  a  swan  like  thee,  shall  be  my  favorite  then.  e. 

I,  who  beside  the  Arno,  strain 

To  match  thy  merit  with  my  lays, 

Learn,  after  many  an  effort  vain, 

To  admire  thee  rather  than  to  praise, 
And  that  by  mute  astonishment  alone, 
Not  by  the  faltering  tongue,  thy  worth  may  beet  be  shown. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  pecuniary  advantages  derived  by 
Milton  from  his  poetical  works  bore  no  comparison  to  their  value, 
and  no  relation  to  their  celebrity.  The  following  curious  docu- 
ments are  literally  copied  from  the  originals  now  in  the  possession 
of  a  gentleman  of  distinguished  literary  character :  they  are  Milton's 
second  receipt  for  Paradise  Lost,  the  third  receipt  of  his  wife,  and 
her  final  discharge  to  Simmons,  the  purchaser  of  the  copyright : 

APRIL  26,  1669. 

Kecd  then  of  Samuel  Simmons  five  pounds,  being  the  Second  five 
pounds  to  be  paid— mentioned  in  the  Covenant.  I  say  recd  by  me, 

JOHN  MILTON. 
Witness— EDMUND 
UPTON. 

I  do  hereby  acknowledge  to  have  received  of  Samuel  Symonds 
Cittizen  and  Statoner  of  London,  the  Sum  of  Eight  pounds: 
which  is  in  full  payment  for  all  my  right,  title,  or  interest,  which 
I  have  or  ever  had  in  the  Coppy  of  a  Poem  Intitled  Paradise 
Lost  in  Twelve  Bookes  in  8vo— By  John  Milton,  Gent,  my  late 
husband.  Wittness  my  hand  this  21st  day  of  December  1680. 

ELIZABETH  MILTON. 
Witness, 

WILLIAM  YOPP, 
ANN  YOPP. 


INTRODUCTION.  1 9 

Know  all  luea  by  these  pssents  that  I  Elizabeth  Milton  of  London 
Widdow,  late  wife  of  John  Milton  of  London  Gent :  deceased- 
have  remissed  released  and  for  ever  quitt  claimed  And  by  these 
pssents  doe  remise  release  &  for  ever  quitt  clayme  unto  Samuel 
Symonds  of  London,  Printer — his  heirs  Excut™  and  Adminis- 
trators All  and  all  manner  of  Accon  and  Accons  Cause  and 
Causes  of  Accon  Suites  Bills  Bonds  writinges  obligatorie  Debts 
dues  duties  Accompts  Surnme  and  Sumes  of  money  Judgments 
Executions  Extents  Quarrells  either  in  Law  or  Equity  Contro- 
versies and  demands — And  all  &  every  other  matter  cause  and 
thing  whatsoever  which  against  the  said  Samuel  Symonds — I 
ever  had  and  which  I  my  heires  Executers  or  Administrators 
shall  or  may  have  clayme  &  challenge  or  demand  for  or  by  rea- 
son or  means  of  any  matters  cause  or  thing  whatsoever  from  the 
beginning  of  the  World  unto  the  day  of  these  pssents.  In  wit- 
ness whereof  I  have  hereunto  sett  my  hand  and  scale  the  twenty 
ninth— day  of  April  in  the  thirty  third  Year  of  the  Eeigne  of  our 
Soveraign  Lord  Charles  by  the  grace  of  God  of  England  Scot- 
land ffrance  and  Ireland  King  defender  of  the  ffaith  &>  Anno 
Dm.  1681. 

Sealed  and  delivered  ELIZABETH  MILTON. 

in  the  pssence  of 

Jos.  LEIGH 

Wm.  WILKINS. 

The  PROSE  WORKS  of  Milton  will,  of  course,  be  estimated  accord- 
ing to  the  political  principles  and  prejudices  of  the  English  reader. 
Milton  was  a  bold  and  decided  actor  in  the  most  eventful  period 
of  British  history.  But  however  the  English  public  may  be  divided 
in  sentiment  on  the  principles  and  projects  of  the  politics  espoused 
by  Milton,  no  one  will  now  dare  to  deny  him  the  just  character  of 
great  ability,  intellectual  intrepidity,  and  Eoman  integrity;  and, 
although  intelligent  readers  may  differ  from  the  political  tenets  of 
the  Prose  Works,  they  must  admire  the  peculiar  felicity  of  the 
language,  and  the  terse  and  eloquent  passages  which  enrich  every 
page.  The  purity  of  his  prose  style  was  publicly  eulogized  so  early 
as  the  year  1650,  in  Hotham's  Introduction  to  the  Teutonick 
Philosophie— **  In  truth  it  is  very  hard  to  write  good  English :  and 
few  have  attained  its  height,  in  this  last  frie  of  books,  but  Mr. 
Milton."  The  Areopagitica  or  Speech  for  the  Liberty  of  the  Press, 
in  the  nobility  of  its  argument,  and  the  majesty  and  strength  of 
expression,  is  the  nost  eloquent  composition  in  the  English  lan- 
guage. 


20  INTRODUCTION. 

The  following  8  an  accurate  list  of  his  prose  pieces: 

1.  Familiar  Epistles. 

2.  Of  Reformation  touching  Church  Discipline  in  England. 

3.  Of  Prelatical  Episcopacy. 

4.  The  Reason  of  Cnurch  Government  urged  against  Prelaty. 

5.  Animadversions  upon  the  Remonstrant's  Defence  against  Smectyr.ndus. 

6.  An  Apology  for  Smectymnuus. 

7.  Of  Education;  to  Master  Samuel  Hartlib. 

8.  Areopagitica  ;  a  Speech  for  the  Liberty  of  unlicenced  Printirg,  to  the  Parli* 

ment  of  England. 

9.  The  Doctrine  and  Discipline  of  Divorce. 

10.  The  Judgment  of  Martin  Bucer  concerning  Divorce. 

11.  Tetrachordon;  an  Exposition  of  the  Scriptural  Doctrine  of  Marriage. 

12.  Colasterion;  a  Defence  of  the  former  Tracts 

13.  The  Tenure  of  Kings  and  Magistrates. 

14.  Observations  on  the  Articles  of  Peace  between  the  Earl  of  Ormond  and 

Charles  I.  with  the  Irish  Catholics. 

15.  Eikonoclastes:  in  Answer  to  Eikon  BasSlike. 

16.  A  Treatise  of  Civil  Power  in  Ecclesiastical  Causes. 

17.  Considerations  touching  the  likeliest  means  of  removing  Hirelings  out  of  the 

Church. 

18.  A  Letter  to  a  Friend  concerning  the  ruptures  of  the  Commonwealth. 

19.  The  present  means  and  brief  delineation  of  a  Free  Commonwealth.    In  a 

Letter  to  General  Monk. 

20.  The  ready  and  easy  way  to  establish  a  Free  Commonwealth. 

21.  Brief  Notes  on  a  loyal  Sermon  by  Dr.  Griffith. 

22.  Accedence  commenced  Grammar,  or  Rules  to  attain  the  Latin  Tongue. 

23.  The  History  of  Britain  to  the  Norman  Conquest. 

24.  Of  True  Religion,  Heresy,  Schism,  Toleration,  &c. 

25.  A  brief  History  of  Muscovia. 

26.  Numerous  State  Papers,  when  Latin  Secretary  to  the  Commonwealth,  and 

Protector,  in  Latin  and  English. 

A  Character  of  the  Long  Parliament,  a  tract  on  the  Question  of  Militia,  and 
*'  Tyrannical  Government  Anatomized,  1642,"  have  been  ascribed  to  Milton  ; 
the  two  latter  on  doubtful  authority.  He  is  also  supposed  to  have  assisted 
in  various  other  publications,  political  and  literary. 

OPERA  LATINA. 

27.  Defensio  pro  Populo  Anglicano,  contra  Claudii  Salmasii  Defensionem  Regiam. 

28.  Defensio  Secunda  contra  Alexandrum  Morum  Ecclesiasten. 

29.  Defensio  pro  se,  &c. 

30.  Artis  Logicae  Institutio  ad  Petri  Rami  methodum  concinnata.    Adjecta  est 

Praia  Analytica  et  Petri  Rami  vita,  <fec. 
81.  De  Doctrina  Christiana. 

For  detailed  biographies  of  Milton,  the  reader  is  referred  to  the 
numerous  early  lives  and  memorials  by  Wood,  in  the  Athene  Oxo- 
niensis,— by  Aubrey,  Ellwood,  Toland,  Richardson,  and  Fenton ; 
>nd  the  modern  memoirs  of  the  Poet  in  the  Biographical  Diction- 
aries by  Birch  and  Chalmers,  and  the  late  very  elegant  and  impar- 
tial biographies  by  Hayley  and  Dr.  Symmons.  The  well-known 
criticisms  of  Hume,  Addison,  Bentley,  Meadowcourt,  the  Richard- 


INTRODUCTION.  21 

sons,  Peck,  Newton,  Dr.  Johnson,  Pearce,  Capel  Loft,  Neve,  Aikin, 
Cowper,  Hayley,  Gilbert  "VVakefield,  and  their  collected  labors  in  the 
invaluable  edition  of  Milton's  Poetical  Works  by  Mr.  Todd,  have 
exhausted  materials  of  commentary  and  criticism. 

The  text  of  the  present  edition  has  been  selected  with  great  care 
from  the  most  correct  of  the  previous  editions :  the  sheets  have 
been  diligently  revised  and  collated  in  all  points  of  uncertain  or  dif- 
ferent readings,  and  compared  with  a  most  excellent  edition  of  tho 
poems,  printed  in  Dublin  in  1757,  edited  by  John  Hawkey.  The 
volume  now  given  to  the  world  forms  the  most  complete  edition  of 
Jie  poetical  works  yet  published,  containing  not  only  an  entire  col- 
lection of  all  the  minor  poems,  but  translations  of  the  Latin  and 
Italian,  chiefly  selected  from  Cowper ;  and  also  a  reprint  of  all  the 
notices  originally  prefixed  to  the  several  editions  in  the  lifetime  of 
the  immortal  author. 

No  notes  encumber  the  text  to  divide  the  attention  of  the  reader, 
or  to  "  point  out  the  beauties"  of  MILTON,  which  indeed  best  dis- 
play themselves  in  their  own  chaste  attire,  without  the  meretricious 
introduction  of  the  critic.  To  apply  the  language  of  an  early  poet — 

Nothing  can  cover  his  high  fame  but  Heaven  • 
No  pyramids  set  off  his  memory 
But  the  eternal  substance  cf  his  greutuew, 
To  which  I  leavo  Lim. 

LP. 

Kay,  1826. 


THE 

LIFE    OF    MILTON, 

BY   HIS  NEPHEW 

EDWARD    PHILIPS. 


Or  all  the  several  parts  of  history,  that  which  sets  forth  the 
lives,  and  commemorates  the  most  remarkable  actions,  sayings,  or 
writings  of  famous  and  illustrious  persons,  whether  in  war  or 
peace— whether  many  together,  or  any  one  in  particular,  as  it  is  not 
the  least  useful  in  itself,  so  it  is  in  highest  vogue  and  esteem  among 
the  studious  and  reading  part  of  mankind.  The  most  eminent  in  this 
way  of  history  were  among  the  ancients,  Plutarch  and  Diogenes 
Laertius  of  the  Greeks.  The  first  wrote  the  Lives,  for  the  most  part, 
of  the  most  renowned  heroes  and  warriors  of  the  Greeks  and  Ro- 
mans ;  the  other  the  Lives  of  the  ancient  Greek  philosophers  ;  and 
Cornelius  Nepos  (or,  as  some  will  have  it,  Acmilius  Probus)  of  the 
Latins,  who  wrote  the  Lives  of  the  most  illustrious  Greek  and  Ro- 
man generals.  Among  the  moderns,  Machiavel,  a  noble  Floren- 
tine, who  elegantly  wrote  the  Life  of  Castrucio  Castracano,  Lord  of 
Luca ;  and  of  our  nation,  Sir  Fulk  Grevil,  who  wrote  the  Life  of  his 
most  intimate  friend,  Sir  Philip  Sidney :  Mr.  Thomas  Stanly,  of 
Cumberlo-Green,  who  made  a  most  elaborate  improvement  to  the 
foresaid  Laertius,  by  adding  to  what  he  found  in  him,  what  by  dili- 
gent search  and  inquiry  he  collected  from  other  authors  of  best 
authority :  Isaac  Walton,  who  wrote  the  Lives  of  Sir  Henry  Wotton, 
Dr.  Donne :  and  for  his  divine  poems,  the  admired  Mr.  George  Her- 
bert. Lastly,  not  to  mention  several  other  biographers  of  consid- 
erable note,  the  great  Gassendus  of  France,  the  worthy  celebrator 
of  two  no  less  worthy  subjects  of  his  impartial  pen  ;  viz.,  the  noble 
philosopher,  Epicurus,  and  the  most  politely  learned  virtuoso  of  his 
age,  his  countryman,  Monsieur  Periesk.  And  pity  it  is  the  per- 
son whose  memory  we  have  here  undertaken  to  perpetuate,  by  re- 


24  THE    LIFE    OF    MR.    JOHN    MILTON. 

counting  the  most  memorable  transactions  of  his  life  (though  his 
works  sufficiently  recommend  him  to  the  world),  finds  not  a  well- 
informed  pen  able  to  set  him  forth,  equal  with  the  best  of  those 
here  mentioned;  for  doubtless  had  his  fame  been  as  much  spread 
through  Europe  in  Thuanus'a  time  as  now  it  is,  and  hath  been 
for  several  years,  he  had  justly  merited  from  that  great  historian  an 
eulogy  not  inferior  to  the  highest,  by  him  given  to  all  the  learned 
and  ingenious  that  lived  within  the  compass  of  his  hijto)  y.  For  we 
may  safely  and  justly  affirm,  that  take  him  in  all  respects — for 
acumen  of  wit,  quickness  of  apprehension,  sagacity  of  judgment, 
depth  of  argument,  and  elegancy  of  style,  as  well  in  Latin  as  Eng- 
lish, as  well  in  verse  as  prose — he  is  scarce  to  be  paralleled  by  any 
of  the  best  of  writers  our  nation  hath  in  any  age  brought  forth.  He 
tfas  born  in  London,  in  a  house  in  Bread-street,  the  lease  whereof, 
as  I  take  it — but  for  certain  it  was  a  house  in  Bread-street — became 
in  time  part  of  his  estate,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1606.  His  father, 
John  Milton,  an  honest,  worthy,  and  substantial  citizen  of  London, 
by  profession  a  scrivener,  to  which  profession  he  voluntarily  be- 
took himself,  by  the  advice  and  assistance  of  an  intimate  friend  of 
his,  eminent  in  that  calling,  upon  his  being  cast  out  by  his  father,  a 
bigoted  Koman  Catholic,  for  embracing,  when  young,  the  Protest- 
ant faith  and  abjuring  the  Popish  tenets ;  for  he  is  said  to  have  been 
descended  of  an  ancient  family  of  the  Miltons,  of  Milton,  near 
Abington  in  Oxfordshire,  where  they  had  been  a  long  time  seated, 
as  appears  by  the  monuments  still  to  be  seen  in  Milton  church,  till 
one  of  the  family,  having  taken  the  wrong  side  in  the  contests  be- 
tween the  houses  of  York  and  Lancaster,  was  sequestered  of  all  his 
estate  but  what  he  held  by  his  wife.  However,  certain  it  is,  that 
this  vocation  he  followed  for  many  years,  at  his  said  house  in  Bread- 
street,  with  success  suitable  to  his  industry  and  prudent  conduct  of 
his  affairs;  yet  did  he  not  so  far  quit  his  own  generous  and  inge- 
nious inclinations  as  to  make  himself  wholly  a  slave  to  the  world  : 
for  he  sometimes  found  vacant  hours  to  the  study  (which  he  made 
his  recreation)  of  the  noble  science  of  music,  in  which  he  advanced 
to  that  perfection  that,  as  I  have  been  told,  and  as  I  take  it,  by  our 
author  himself,  he  composed  an  II  Nomine  of  forty  parts,  for  which 
he  was  rewarded  with  a  gold  medal  and  chain  by  a  Polish  prince, 
to  whom  he  presented  it.  However,  this  is  a  truth  not  to  be  denied, 
that  for  several  songs  of  his  composition,  after  the  way  of  these 
times,  three  or  four  of  which  are  still  to  be  seen  in  Old  Wilby's  set 
of  airs,  besides  some  compositions  of  his  in  Eavenscroft's  Psalms 
he  gained  the  reputation  of  a  considerable  master  in  this  most 
charming  of  all  the  liberal  sciences  ;  yet  all  this  while  he  managed 


THE    LIFE    OF   MR.   JOHN    MILTOK.  25 

his  grand  affair  of  this  world  with  such  prudence  and  diligence  that, 
by  the  assistance  of  Divine  Providence  favoring  his  honest  endeav- 
ors, he  gained  a  competent  estate,  whereby  he  was  enabled  to  mak  3 
a  handsome  provision  both  for  the  education  and  maintenance  of 
his  children ;  for  three  he  had,  and  no  more,  all  by  one  wife — Sarah, 
of  the  family  of  the  Castons,  derived  originally  from  WoJes — a 
woman  of  incomparable  virtue  and  goodness:  John,  the  eldest,  the 
subject  of  OUT  present  work,  Christopher,  and  an  only  daughter, 
Ann.  Christopher,  being  principally  designed  for  the  study  of  the 
common  law  of  England,  was  entered  young  a  student  of  the  Inner- 
Temple,  of  which  house  he  lived  to  be  an  ancient  bencher ;  and 
keeping  close  to  that  study  and  profession  all  his  lifetime,  except 
in  the  time  of  the  civil  wars  of  England,  when,  being  a  great  favorer 
and  assertor  of  the  king's  cause,  and  obnoxious  to  the  parliament's- 
side  by  acting  to  his  utmost  power  against  them  so  long  as  he  kept 
his  station  at  Reading,  and,  after  that  town  was  taken  by  the  par- 
liament forces,  being  forced  to  quit  his  house  there,  he  steered  his 
course  according  to  the  motion  of  the  king's  army. 

But  when  the  war  was  ended  with  victory  and  success  to  the 
Parliament  party,  by  the  valor  of  General  Fairfax,  and  the  craft 
and  conduct  of  Cromwell ;  and  his  composition  made,  by  the  help 
of  his  brother's  interest,  with  the  then  prevailing  power,  he  betook 
himself  again  to  his  former  study  and  profession,  following  cham- 
ber-practice every  term,  yet  came  to  no  advancement  in  the  world 
in  a  long  time,  except  some  small  employ  in  the  town  of  Ipswich, 
where  (and  near  it)  he  lived  all  the  latter  time  of  his  life.  For  he 
was  a  person  of  a  modest  quiet  temper,  preferring  justice  and  virtue 
before  all  worldly  pleasure  or  grandeur :  but  in  the  beginning  of 
Ihe  reign  of  King  James  the  II.,  for  his  known  integrity  and  ability 
in  the  law,  he  was  by  some  persons  of  quality  recommended  to  the 
king,  %nd  at  a  call  of  Serjeants  received  the  coif,  and  the  same  day 
was  sworn  one  of  the  barons  of  the  exchequer,  and  soon  after 
made  one  of  the  judges  of  the  Common  Pleas ;  but  his  years  and 
indisposition  not  well  brooking  the  fatigue  of  public  employment, 
he  continued  not  long  in  either  of  these  stations,  but  having  his 
quietus  eat,  retired  to  a  country  life — his  study  and  devotion.  Ann, 
the  only  daughter  of  the  said  John  Milton  the  elder,  had  a  consid- 
erable dowry  given  her  by  her  father,  in  marriage  with  Edward 
Philips  (the  son  of  Edward  Philips  of  Shrewsbury),  who,  coming 
up  young  to  town,  was  bred  up  in  the  Crown-office  in  Chancery, 
and  at  length  came  to  be  secondary  of  the  office  under  old  Mr. 
Bembo ;  by  him  she  had,  besides  other  children  that  died  infants, 
two  sons  yet  surviving,  of  whom  more  hereafter*  and  by  a  second 


26  THE    LIFE    OF    MR.    JOHX    MILTON. 

husband,  Mr.  Thomas  Agar,  who  (upon  the  death  of  his  intimate 
friend  Mr.  Philips)  worthily  succeeded  in  the  place,  which,  except 
some  time  of  exclusion  before  and  during  the  interregnum,  he  held 
for  many  years,  and  left  it  to  Mr.  Thomas  Milton  (the  son  of  the 
afore-mentioned  Sir  Christopher)  who  at  this  day  executes  it  with 
great  reputation  and  ability.  Two  daughters,  Mary,  who  died  very 
young,  and  Ann,  yet  surviving. 

But  to  hasten  back  to  our  matter  in  hand:  John,  our  author, 
who  was  destined  to  be  the  ornament  and  glory  of  his  country, 
was  sent,  together  with  his  brother,  to  Paul's  school,  whereof  Dr. 
Gill,  the  elder,  was  then  chief  master ;  where  he  was  entered  into 
the  first  rudiments  of  learning,  and  advanced  therein  with  that 
admirable  success,  not  more  by  the  discipline  of  the  school  and 
good  instructions  of  his  masters  (for  that  he  had  another  master 
possibly  at  his  father's  house,  appears  by  the  fourth  elegy  of  his 
Latin  poems  written  in  his  eighteenth  year,  to  Thomas  Young, 
pastor  of  the  English  company  of  merchants  at  Hamborough, 
wherein  he  owns  and  styles  him  his  master)  than  by  his  own  happy 
genius,  prompt  wit  and  apprehension,  and  insuperable  industry; 
for  he  generally  sat  up  half  the  night,  as  well  in  voluntary  im- 
provements of  his  own  choice,  as  the  exact  perfecting  of  his  school 
exercises ;  so  that,  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  he  was  full  ripe  for  aca- 
demic learning,  and  accordingly  was  sent  to  the  University  of  Cam- 
bridge; where,  in  Christ's  College,  under  the  tuition  of  a  very 
eminent  learned  man,  whose  name  I  cannot  call  to  mind,  he  studied 
seven  years,  and  took  his  degree  of  master  of  arts ;  and,  for  the 
extraordinary  wit  and  reading  he  had  shown  in  his  performances 
to  attain  his  degree  (some  whereof  spoken  at  a  vacation  exercise 
in  his  nineteenth  year  of  age,  are  to  be  yet  seen  in  his  miscellane- 
ous poems)  he  was  loved  and  admired  by  the  whole  university, 
particularly  by  the  fellows  and  most  ingenious  persons  of  his  house. 
Among  the  rest  there  was  a  young  gentleman,  one  Mr.  King,  with 
whom,  for  his  great  learning  and  parts,  he  had  contracted  a  par- 
ticular friendship  and  intimacy ;  whose  death  (for  he  was  drowned 
en  the  Irish  Seas  in  his  passage  from  Chester  to  Ireland)  he  bewails 
in  that  most  excellent  monody  in  his  fore-mentioned  poems,  entitled 
Lycidas.  Never  was  the  loss  of  friend  so  elegantly  lamented ;  and 
among  the  rest  of  his  juvenile  poems,  some  he  wrote  at  the  age  of 
fifteen,  which  contain  a  poetical  genius  scarce  to  be  paralleled  by 
any  English  writer.  Soon  after  he  had  taken  his  master's  degree, 
he  thought  fit  to  leave  the  university :  not  upon  any  disgust  or  dis- 
content for  want  of  preferment,  as  some  ill-willers  have  reported ; 
nor  upon  any  cause  whatsoever  forced  to  fly,  as  his  detractors 


THE    LIFE    OF    MR.    JOHN    MILTON.  27 

maliciously  feign ;  but  from  which  aspersion  he  sufficiently  clears 
himself  in  his  second  answer  to  Alexander  Morus,  the  author  of  a 
book  called  Clamor  Eegii  Sanguinis  ad  Calurn,  the  chief  of  his 
calumniators,  in  which  he  plainly  makes  it  out,  that  after  his  leav 
ing  the  university,  to  the  no  small  trouble  of  his  fellow-collegiates, 
who,  in  general,  regretted  his  absence,  he  for  the  space  of  five 
years  lived  for  the  most  part  with  his  father  and  mother  at  their 
house  at  Horton,  near  Colebrook,  in  Berkshire,  whither  his  father, 
having  got  an  estate  to  his  content,  and  left  off  all  business,  was 
retired  from  the  cares  and  fatigues  of  the  world.  After  the  said 
term  of  five  years,  his  mother  then  dying,  he  was  willing  to  add  to 
his  acquired  learning  the  observation  of  foreign  customs,  manners, 
and  institutions  ;  and  thereupon  took  a  resolution  to  travel,  more 
especially  designing  for  Italy ;  and,  accordingly,  with  his  father's 
consent  and  assistance,  he  put  himself  into  an  equipage  suitable  to 
such  a  design  ;  and  so  intending  to  go  by  the  way  of  France,  he  set 
out  for  Paris,  accompanied  only  with  one  man,  who  attended  him 
through  all  his  travels ;  for  his  prudence  was  his  guide,  and  his 
learning  his  introduction  and  presentation  to  persons  of  most  emi- 
nent quality.  However,  he  had  also  a  most  civil  and  obliging  letter 
of  direction  and  advice  from  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  then  provost  of 
Eton,  and  formerly  resident  ambassador  from  King  James  the  First 
to  the  State  of  Venice,  which  letter  is  to  be  seen  in  the  first  edition 
of  his  miscellaneous  poems.  At  Paris,  being  recommended  by  the 
said  Sir  Henry  and  other  persons  of  quality,  he  went  first  to  wait 
upon  my  Lord  Scudamore,  then  ambassador  in  France  from  King 
Charles  the  First.  My  lord  received  him  with  wonderful  civility ; 
and,  understanding  he  had  a  desire  to  make  a  visit  to  the  great 
Hugo  Grotius,  he  sent  sevcial  of  his  attendants  to  wait  upon  him, 
and  to  present  him  in  his  name  to  that  renowned  doctor  and 
statesman,  who  was  at  that  time  ambassador  from  Christina,  Queen 
of  Sweden,  to  the  French  king.  Grotius  took  the  visit  kindly,  and 
gave  him  entertainment  suitable  to  his  worth,  and  the  high  com- 
mendations he  had  heard  of  him.  After  a  few  days,  not  intending 
to  make  the  usual  tour  of  France,  he  took  his  leave  of  my  ord, 
who,  at  his  departure  from  Paris,  gave  him  letters  to  the  English 
merchants  residing  in  any  part  through  which  he  was  to  travel,  in 
which  they  were  requested  to  show  him  all  the  kindness,  and  d«. 
him  all  the  good  offices  that  lay  in  their  power. 

From  Paris  he  hastened  on  his  journey  to  Nicsea,  where  he  took 
shipping,  and  in  a  short  space  arrived  at  Genoa;  from  whence  he 
went  to  Leghorn,  thence  to  Pisa,  and  so  to  Florence.  In  this  city 
he  met  with  many  charming  objects,  which  invited  him  to  stay  a 
onger  time  than  lie  intended ;  the  pleasant  situation  of  the  place, 


28  TIIK    ^itfE    OF    Mrv.    JOHN    MILTON, 


the  nobleness  of  the  structures,  the  exact  humanity  and  civility  of 
the  inhabitants,  the  more  polite  and  refined  sort  of  language  there 
than  elsewhere.  During  the  time  of  his  stay  here,  which  was 
about  two  months,  he  visited  all  the  private  academies  of  the  city, 
which  are  places  established  for  the  improvement  of  wit  and  learn- 
ing, and  maintained  a  correspondence  and  perpetual  friendship 
among  gentlemen  fitly  qualified  for  such  an  institution,  and  such 
sort  of  academies  there  are  in  all  or  most  of  the  most  noted  cities 
in  Italy.  Visiting  these  places,  he  was  soon  taken  notice  of  by  the 
most  learned  and  ingenious  of  the  nobility  and  the  grand  wits  of 
Florence,  who  caressed  him  with  all  the  honors  and  civilities 
imaginable,  particularly  Jacobo  Gaddi,  Carolo  Dati,  Antonio 
Franciui,  Frescobaldo,  Cultellino,  Banmatthei,  and  Clementillo; 
whereof  Gaddi  hath  a  large  elegant  Italian  canzonet  in  his  praise  ; 
Dati,  a  Latin  epistle—  both  printed  before  his  Latin  poems,  together 
with  a  Latin  distich  of  the  Marquis  of  Villa,  and  another  of  Sel- 
vaggi,  and  a  Latin  tetrastich  of  Giovanni  Salsilli,  a  Roman. 

From  Florence  he  took  his  journey  to  Siena,  from  thence  fx> 
Borne,  where  he  was  detained  much  about  the  same  time  he  nad 
been  at  Florence,  as  well  by  his  desire  of  seeing  all  the  rarities 
and  antiquities  of  that  most  glorious  and  renowned  city,  as  by  the 
conversation  of  Lucas  Holstenius,  and  other  learned  and  ingenious 
men,  who  highly  valued  his  acquaintance,  and  treated  him  with 
all  possible  respect. 

From  Rome  he  travelled  to  Naples,  where  he  was  introduced  by 
a  certain  hermit,  who  accompanied  him  in  his  journey  from  Rome 
thither,  into  the  knowledge  of  Giovanni  Baptista  Manso,  Marquis 
of  Villa,  a  Neapolitan  by  birth,  a  person  of  high  nobility,  virtue, 
and  honor,  to  whom  the  famous  Italian  poet,  Torquato  Tasso,  wrote 
his  treatise  de  Amicitia;  and,  moreover,  mentions  him  with  great 
honor  in  that  illustrious  poem  of  his,  entitled,  Giemsalcmme 
Liberata.  This  noble  marquis  received  him  with  extraordinary 
respect  and  civility,  and  went  with  him  himself  to  give  him  a  sight 
of  all  that  was  of  note  and  remark  in  the  city,  particularly  the  vice- 
roy's palace,  and  was  often  in  person  to  visit  him  at  his  lodgings. 
Moreover,  this  noble  marquis  honored  him  so  far,  as  to  make  a 
Latin  distich  in  his  praise,  as  hath  been  already  mentioned  ;  which 
being  no  less  pithy  than  short,  though  already  in  print,  it  will  no 
Ve  unworth  the  while  here  to  repeat. 

Ut  metis,  forma,  decor,  facies,  si*  pietas,  sic, 
Non  Anglos  verum  Hercle  Angelas,  ipse  ibret. 

In  return  of  this  honor,  and  in  gratitude  for  the  many  favors  and 
*  This  word  relates  to  Iris  being  a  Protestant,  not  a  Roman  Catholic. 


THE    LIFE    OF    MR.    JOHN    MILTOX.  29 

civilities  received  of  him,  he  presented  him,  at  his  departure,  with 
a  large  Latin  eclogue,  entitled  Mansus,  afterwards  published  among 
his  Latin  poems.  The  marquis,  at  his  taking  leave  of  him,  gave 
him  this  compliment,  that  he  would  have  done  him  many  more 
offices  of  kindness  and  civility,  but  was  therefore  rendered  incapa- 
ble, in  regard  he  had  been  over-liberal  in  his  speech  against  the  re- 
ligion of  the  country. 

He  had  entertained  some  thoughts  of  passing  over  into  Sicily  and 
Greece,  but  was  diverted  by  the  news  he  received  from  England, 
that  affairs  there  were  tending  towards  a  civil  war — thinking  it  a 
thing  unworthy  in  him  to  be  taking  his  pleasure  in  foreign  part?, 
while  his  countrymen  at  home  were  fighting  for  their  liberty :  but 
first  resolved  to  see  Kome  once  more  ;  and,  though  the  merchants 
gave  him  a  caution  that  the  Jesuits  were  hatching  designs  against 
him,  in  case  he  should  return  thither,  by  reason  of  the  freedom  he 
took  in  all  his  discourses  of  religion,  nevertheless  he  ventured  to 
prosecute  his  resolution,  and  to  Eome  the  second  time  he  went, 
determining  with  himself  not  industriously  to  begin  to  fall  into  any 
discourse  about  religion,  but,  being  asked,  not  to  deny  or  endeavor 
to  conceal  his  own  sentiments.  Two  months  he  staid  at  Eome, 
and  in  all  that  time  never  flinched,  but  was  ready  to  defend  the 
orthodox  faith  against  all  opposers ;  and,  so  well  he  succeeded 
therein,  that  good  Providence  guarded  him,  he  went  safe  from 
Eome  back  to  Florence,  where  his  return  to  his  friends  of  that  city 
was  welcomed  with  as  much  joy  and  affection,  as  had  it  been  to  his 
friends  and  relations  in  his  own  country,  he  could  not  have  corne  a 
more  joyful  and  welcome  guest.  Here,  having  stayed  as  long  as  at 
his  first  coming,  except  an  excursion  of  a  few  days  to  Luca,  cross- 
ing the  Apennine,  and  passing  through  Bononia  and  Ferrara,  he  ar- 
rived at  Venice,  where,  when  he  had  spent  a  month's  time  in  view- 
ing of  that  stately  city,  and  shipped  up  a  parcel  of  curious  and  rare 
books  which  he  had  picked  up  in  his  travels,  particularly  a  chest 
or  two  of  choice  music-books,  of  the  best  masters  flourishing  about 
that  time  in  Italy — namely,  Luca  Marenzo,  Monte  Verde,  Horatio 
Vecchi,  Cafa,  the  prince  of  Venosa,  and  several  others — he  took  his 
course  through  Verona,  Milan,  and  the  Pcenine  Alps,  and  so  by  the 
Lake  Leman  to  Geneva,  where  he  staid  for  some  time,  and  had  daily 
converse  with  the  most  learned  Giovanni  Deodati,  theology-pro- 
fessor in  that  city,  and  so  returning  through  France,  by  the  same 
way  he  had  passed  it  going  to  Italy,  he,  after  a  peregrination  of  one 
oomplete  year  and  about  three  months,  arrived  safe  in  England, 
about  the  time  of  the  king's  making  his  second  expedition  against 
the  Scots.  Soor  after  his  return,  and  visits  paid  to  his  father  and 
other  friends,  he  took  him  a  lodging  in  St.  Bride's  church-yard,  at 


30  THE    LIFE    OF    MR.    JOHN    MILTOX. 

the  house  of  Eussel  a  tailor,  where  lie  first  undertook  the  educating 
and  instruction  of  his  sister's  two  sons,  the  younger  whereof  had 
been  wholly  committed  to  his  charge  and  care.  And  here,  by  the 
way,  I  judge  it  not  impertinent  to  mention  the  many  authors,  both 
of  the  Latin  and  Greek,  which,  through  his  excellent  judgment  and 
way  of  teaching,  far  above  the  pedantry  of  common  public  schools, 
(where  such  authors  are  scarce  ever  heard  of,)  were  run  over  within 
no  greater  compass  of  time,  even  than  from  ten  to  fifteen  or  sixteen 
years  of  age.  Of  the  Latin,  the  four  grand  authors  De  Ee  Eustica, 
Cato,  Varro,  Columella,  and  Palladius  ;  Cornelius  Celsus,  an  ancient 
physician  of  the  Eomans  ;  a  great  part  of  Pliny's  Natural  History? 
Vitruvius's  Architecture,  Frontinus's  Stratagems,  with  the  two 
egregious  poets,  Lucretius  and  Manilius.  Of  the  Greek,  Hesiod,  a 
poet  equal  with  Homer ;  Aratus's  Phenomena  and  Diosemeia,  Dio- 
nysius,  Afer  de  situ  Orbis,  Oppian's  Cynegeticks  and  Halieuticks. 
Quintus  Calaber's  poem  of  the  Trojan  War,  continued  from  Homer ; 
Apollonius  Ehodius's  Argonauticks,  and  in  prose,  Plutarch's 
Placita  Philosophorum  n*pt  Uat&wv  *Ay^ytaj,  Geminus's  Astron- 
omy ;  Xenophon's  Cyri  Institutio  et  Anabasis,  JElian's  Tactics,  and 
Polyaenus's  Warlike  Stratagems;  thus  by  teaching,  he  in  some 
measure  increased  his  own  knowledge,  having  the  reading  of  all 
these  authors,  as  it  were,  by  proxy ;  and  all  this  might  possibly 
have  conduced  to  the  preserving  of  his  eyesight,  had  he  not. 
moreover,  been  perpetually  busied  in  his  own  laborious  under- 
takings of  the  book  or  pen.  Nor  did  the  time  thus  studiously  em- 
ployed in  conquering  the  Greek  and  Latin  tongues  hinder  the 
attaining  to  the  chief  Oriental  languages — viz.,  the  Hebrew,  Chal- 
dee.  and  Syriac,  so  far  as  to  go  through  the  Pentateuch,  or  Five 
Books  of  Moses  in  Hebrew,  to  make  a  good  entrance  into  the 
Targum  or  Chaldee  Paraphrase,  and  to  understand  several  chapters 
of  St.  Matthew  in  the  Syriac  Testament,  besides  an  introduction 
into  several  arts  and  sciences,  by  reading  Urstisius's  Arithmetic, 
Eiff's  Geometry,  Petiscus's  Trigonometry,  Joannes  de  Sacro  Bosco 
de  Splaaera ;  and  into  the  Italian  and  French  tongues,  by  rending, 
in  Italian,  Giovan  Villani's  History  of  the  Transactions  between 
several  petty  States  of  Italy ;  and,  in  French,  a  great  part  of  Pierre 
Davity,  the  famous  geographer  of  France  in  his  time.  The  Sun- 
day's work  was,  for  the  most  part,  the  reading,  each  day,  a  chapter 
of  the  Greek  Testament,  and  hearing  his  learned  exposition  upon 
the  same  (and  how  this  savored  of  atheism  in  him,  I  leave  to  the 
courteous  backbiter  to  judge).  The  next  work  after  this  was  the 
writing,  from  his  own  dictation,  some  part,  from  time  to  time,  of 
t  Tractate,  which  he  thought  fit  to  collect  from  the  ablest  of  divines 


THE    LIFE    OF    MR.    JOHN    MILTON,  31 

who  had  written  of  that  subject,  Amesius,  Wellebius,  &c.— viz., 
A  perfecc  System  of  Divinity,  of  which  more  hereafter.  Now  per- 
sons so  far  manducted  into  the  highest  paths  of  literature,  both 
divine  Mid  human,  had  they  received  his  documents  with  the  same 
acuteness  of  wit  and  apprehension,  the  same  industry,  alacrity,  and 
thirst  after  knowledge,  as  the  instructor  was  endued  with,  what 
prodigies  of  wit  and  learning  might  they  have  proved ! — the  scholars 
might,  in  some  degree,  have  come  near  to  the  equalling  of  the 
master,  or  at  least  have,  in  some  sort,  made  good  what  he  seems  to 
predict,  in  the  close  of  an  elegy  he  made  in  the  seventeenth  year  of 
his  age,  upon  the  death  of  one  of  his  sister's  children  (a  daughter), 
who  died  in  her  infancy. 

Then  thou  the  mother  of  so  sweet  a  child, 

Her  false  imagined  loss  cease  to  lament, 

And  wisely  learn  to  curb  thy  sorrows  wild  ; 

This  if  thou  do,  he  will  an  offspring  give, 

That,  to  the  world's  last  end,  shall  make  thy  name  to  live. 

But  to  return  to  the  thread  of  our  discourse.  He  made  no  long 
stay  in  his  lodgings  in  St.  Bride's  church-yard ;  necessity  of  having 
a  place  to  dispose  his  books  in,  and  other  goods  fit  for  the  furnish- 
ing of  a  good  handsome  house,  hastening  mm  to  take  one ;  and  ac- 
cordingly a  pretty  garden-house  he  took  in  Aldersgate-street,  at  the 
end  of  an  entry ;  and  therefore  the  fitter  for  his  turn,  by  the  reason 
of  the  privacy,  besides  that  there  are  few  streets  in  London  more 
free  from  noise  than  that. 

Here  first  it  was  that  his  academic  erudition  was  put  in  practice 
and  vigorously  proceeded,  ha  himself  giving  an  example,  to  those 
under  him  (for  it  was  not  long  after  his  taking  this  house  ere  his 
elder  nephew  was  put  to  board  with  him  also)  of  hard  study  and 
spare  diet;  only1  this  advantage  he  had,  that  once  in  three  weeks  or 
a  month  he  would  drop  into  the  society  of  some  young  sparks  of  his 
acquaintance,  the  chief  whereof  were  Mr.  Alphry  and  Mr.  Miller, 
two  gentlemen  of  Gray's-Inn,  the  beaus  of  those  times,  but  nothing 
near  so  bad  as  those  now-a-days ;  with  these  gentlemen  he  would  so 
far  make  bold  with  his  body  as  now  and  then  to  keep  a  gaudy  day. 

In  this  house  he  continued  several  years,  in  the  one  or  two  first 
whereof  he  set  out  several  treatises,  viz.,  that  of  Reformation ;  that 
against  Prelatical  Episcopacy ;  the  Reason  of  Church  Government ; 
the  Defence  of  Smectimnuus;  at  least  the  greatest  part  of  them, 
but  as  I  take  it,  all;  and  some  time  after,  one  sheet  of  Education, 
which  he  dedicated  to  Mr.  Samuel  Hartlib,  he  that  wrote  so  much  of 
husbandry  (this  sheet  is  printed  at  the  end  of  the  second  edition  of 
his  poems) ;  and,  lastly,  Areopagitica.  During  the  time  also  of  his 
Continuance  in  this  house,  there  fell  out  several  occasions  of  the  in 


32  THE    LIFE    OF    MR.    JOHN    MILTON. 

creasing  of  his  family.  His  father,  who,  till  the  taking  of  Heading 
oy  the  Earl  of  Essex's  forces,  had  lived  with  his  other  son  at  his 
house  there,  was,  upon  that  son's  dissettlementj  necessitated  to  be- 
take himself  to  this  his  eldest  son,  with  whom  he  lived  for  some 
years,  even  to  his  dying  day.  In  the  next  place  he  had  an  addition 
of  some  scholars,  to  which  may  be  added  his  entering  into  matri- 
mony ;  but  he  had  his  wife's  company  so  small  a  time  that  he  may 
well  be  said  to  have  become  a  single  man  again  soon  after.  About 
Whitsuntide  it  was,  or  a  little  after,  that  he  took  a  journey  into  the 
country,  nobody  about  him  certainly  knowing  the  reason,  or  that 
it  was  any  more  than  a  journey  of  recreation.  After  a  month's 
stay,  home  he  returns  a  married  man,  that  went  out  a  bache.br ;  his 
wife  being  Mary,  the  eldest  daughter  of  Mr.  Eichard  Powell,  then 
a  justice  of  the  peace  of  Forrest-hill,  near  Shotover,  in  Oxfordshire, 
some  few  of  her  nearest  relations  accompanying  the  bride  to  her 
new  habitation,  which  by  reason  the  father  nor  anybody  else  were 
yet  come,  was  able  to  receive  them,  where  the  feasting  held  for 
some  days,  in  celebration  of  the  nuptials  and  for  entertainment  of 
the  bride's  friends.  At  length  they  took  their  leave,  and,  return- 
ing to  Forrest-hill,  left  the  sister  behind,  probably  not  much  to  her 
satisfaction,  as  appeared  by  the  sequel ;  by  that  time  she  had,  for  a 
month  or  thereabout,  led  a  philosophical  life  (after  having  been 
used  to  a  great  house  and  much  company  and  joviality).  Her  friends, 
possibly  incited  by  her  own  desire,  made  earnest  suit,  by  letter,  to 
have  her  company  the  remaining  part  of  bummer,  which  was 
granted  on  condition  of  her  return  at  the  time  appointed,  Michael- 
mas, or  thereabouts :  in  the  mean  time  came  his  father  and  some 
of  the  forementioned  disciples.  And  now  the  studies  went  en 
with  so  much  the  more  vigor,  as  there  were  more  hands  and  heads 
employed — the  old  gentleman  living  wholly  retired  to  his  rest 
and  devotion,  without  the  least  trouble  imaginable.  Our  author, 
now  as  it  were  a  single  man  again,  made  it  his  chief  diversion,  now 
and  then  in  an  evening,  to  visit  the  Lady  Margaret  Lee,  daughter 
to  the Lee,  Earl  of  Marlborough,  lord  high  treasurer  of  Eng- 
land, and  president  of  the  privy  council  to  King  James  the  First. 
This  lady  being  a  woman  of  great  wit  and  ingenuity,  had  a  particu- 
lar honor  for  him,  and  took  much  delight  in  his  company,  as 
likewise  her  husband,  Captain  Hobson,  a  very  accomplished  gen- 
tleman ;  and  what  esteem  he  at  the  same  time  had  for  her,  appears 
by  a  sonnet  he  made  in  praise  of  her,  to  be  seen  among  his  other 
sonnets  in  his  extant  poems.  Michaelmas  being  come,  and  no  news 
of  hia  wife's  return,  he  sent  for  her  by  letter,  and,  receiving  no  an- 
swer, sent  several  other  letters,  which  were  also  unanswered ;  so 
that  at  last  he  dispatched  down  a  foot-messenger  with  a  letter,  de- 


THE    LIFE    OF    MR.    JOHN '  MILICS.  33 

siring  her  return ;  but  the  messenger  came  back  not  only  without 
an  answer,  at  least  a  satisfactory  one,  but,  to  the  best  of  my  re 
membrance,  reported  that  he  was  dismissed  with  some  sort  of  con- 
tempt.   This  proceeding,  in  all  probability,  was  grounded  upon  no 
other  cause  but  this,  namely :  that  the  family  being  generally  ad- 
dicted to  the  cavalier  party,  as  they  called  it,  and  some  of  then 
possibly  engaged  in  the  king's  service,  who  by  this  time  had  his 
headquarters  at  Oxford,  and  was  in  some  prospect  of  success,  they 
began  to  repent  them  of  having  matched  the  eldest  daughter  of  the 
family  to  a  person  so  contrary  to  them  in  opinion,  and  thought  it 
would  be  a  blot  in  their  escutcheon  whenever  that  court  should 
come  to  flourish  again.    However,  it  so  incensed  our  author  that 
he  thought  it  would  be  dishonorable  ever  to  receive  her  again  aftei 
such  a  repulse,  so  that  he  forthwith  prepared  to  fortify  himself  with 
arguments  for  such  a  resolution,  and  accordingly  wrote  two  trea- 
tises, by  which  he  undertook  to  maintain  that  it  was  against  reason 
(and  the  enjoyment  of  it  not  provable  by  scripture)  for  any  mar 
ried  couple,  disagreeable  in  humor  and  temper,  or  having  an  aver- 
sion to  each  other,  to  be  forced  to  live  yoked  together  all  their  days 
The  first  was,  his  Doctrine  and  Discipline  of  Divorce,  of  which 
there  was  printed  a  second  edition,  with  some  additions.    The 
other,  in  prosecution  of  the  first,  was  styled  Tetrachordon.    Then 
the  better  to  confirm  his  own  opinion  by  the  attestation  of  others, 
he  set  out  a  piece  called  the  Judgment  of  Martin  Bucer,  a  Protestant 
Minister,  being  a  translation  out  of  that  reverend  divine  of  some 
part  of  his  works  exactly  agreeing  with  him  in  sentiment.    Lastly, 
he  wrote,  in  answer  to  a  pragmatical  clerk,  who  would  needs  give 
himself  the  honor  of  writing  against  so  great  a  man,  hisColasterion, 
or  Eod  of  Correction  for  a  Saucy  Impertinent.    Not  very  long  aftei 
the  setting  forth  of  these  treatises,  having  application  made  to  him 
by  several  gentlemen  of  his  acquaintance,  for  the  education  of  theii 
sons,  as  understanding  haply  the  progress  he  had  infixed  by  his 
first  undertakings  of  that  nature,  he  laid  out  for  a  larger  house,  and 
soon  found  it  out;  but  in  the  interim  before  he  removed,  there  fell 
out  a  passage,  which,  though  it  altered  not  the  whole  course  he  was 
going  to  steer,  yet  it  put  a  stop,  or  rather  an  end,  to  a  grand  affair, 
which  was  more  than  probably  thought  to  be  then  in  agitation.    It 
was,  indeed,  a  design  of  marrying  one  of  Dr.  Davis's  daughters — a 
very  handsome  and  witty  gentlewomen,  but  averse,  as  it  is  said,  to 
this  motion.    However,  the  intelligence  hereof,  and  the  then  decli- 
ning state  of  the  king's  cause,  and  consequently  of  the  circumstances 
of  Justice  Powell's  family,  caused  them  to  set  all  engines  at  work 
lo  restore  the  late  married  woman  to  the  station  wherein  they  a  lit- 


34  THE    LIFE    OF    MR.   JOHN    MILTON. 

tie  before  had  planted  her.  At  last  this  device  was  pitched  upon  :— 
There  dwelt  in  the  Lane  of  St.  Martin's  le  Grand,  which  was  hard 
by,  a  relation  of  our  author's,  one  Blackborough,  whom  it  wah 
known  he  often  visited ;  and  upon  this  occasion  the  visits  were  the 
more  narrowly  observed,  and  possibly  there  might  be  a  combina- 
tion between  both  parties ;  the  friends  on  both  sides  concentring 
In  the  same  action,  though  on  different  behalfs.  One  time  above 
the  rest,  he  making  his  usual  visit,  the  wife  was  ready  in  another 
oom,  and  on  a  sudden  he  was  surprised  to  see  one  whom  he 
thought  to  have  never  seen  more,  making  submission  and  begging 
pardon  on  her  knees  before  him.  He  might  probably  at  first  make 
some  show  of  aversion  and  rejection  ;  but  partly  his  own  generous 
nature,  more  inclinable  to  reconciliation  than  to  perseverance  in 
anger  and  revenge,  and  partly  the  strong  intercession  of  friends  on 
both  sides,  soon  brought  him  to  an  act  of  oblivion  and  a  firm  league 
of  peace  for  the  future ;  and  it  was  at  length  concluded  that  she 
should  remain  at  a  friend's  house  till  such  time  as  he  was  settled 
in  his  new  house  at  Barbican,  and  all  things  for  her  reception  in 
order.  The  place  agreed  on  for  her  present  abode  was  the  Widow 
Webber's  house  in  St.  Clement's  Churchyard,  whose  second  daugh- 
ter had  been  married  to  the  other  brother  many  years  before.  The 
first  fruits  of  her  return  to  her  husband  was  a  brave  girl,  born 
within  a  year  after,  though,  whether  by  ill-constitution  or  want  ot 
care,  she  grew  more  and  more  decrepit.  But  it  was  not  only  by 
children  that  she  increased  the  number  of  the  family ;  for  in  no 
very  long  time  after  her  coming,  she  had  a  great  resort  of  her  kin- 
dred with  her  in  the  house,  viz.,  her  father  and  mother,  and  sev- 
eral of  her  brothers  and  sisters,  which  were  in  all  pretty  numerous ; 
who,  upon  his  father's  sickening  and  dying  soon  after,  went  away. 
And  now  the  house  looked  again  like  a  house  of  the  Muses  only, 
though  the  accession  of  scholars  was  not  great.  Possibly  his. pro- 
ceeding thus  far  in  the  education  of  youth  may  have  been  the  oc- 
casion of  some  of  his  adversaries  calling  him  pedagogue  and 
schoolmaster.  Whereas  it  is  well  known  he  never  set  up  for  a  pub- 
lic school  to  teach  all  the  young  fry  of  a  parish,  but  only  was  willing 
to  impart  his  learning  and  knowledge  to  relations,  and  the  sons  ot 
tome  gentlemen  that  were  his  intimate  friends  ;  besides,  that  neither 
his  converse,  nor  his  writings,  nor  his  manner  of  teaching,  ever 
gavored  in  the  least  any  thing  of  pedantry :  and,  probably,  he  might 
have  some  prospect  of  putting  in  practice  his  academical  institution, 
according  to  the  model  laid  down  in  his  sheet  of  Education.  The 
progress  of  which  design  was  afterwards  diverted  by  a  series  of 
alteration  in  the  affairs  of  state,  for  I  am  much  mistaken  if  there 


THE    LIFE    OF    MR.    JOHN    MILTON.  35 

were  not,  about  this  time,  a  design  in  agitation  of  making  him 
adjutant-general  in  Sir  William  "Waller's  army ;  but  the  new 
modelling  of  the  army  soon  following,  proved  an  obstruction  to 
that  design,  and,  Sir  William's  commission  being  laid  down,  as 
the  common  saying  is,  to  turn  cat  in  pan.  It  was  not  long  after 
the  march  of  Fairfax  and  Cromwell  through  the  city  of  London  with 
the  whole  army,  to  quell  the  insurrections,  Brown  and  Massey, 
ncTf  malcontents  also,  were  endeavoring  to  raise  in  the  city  against 
the  army's  proceedings,  ere  he  left  his  great  house  in  Barbican, 
and  betook  himself  to  a  smaller  in  High  Holborn,  among  those  that 
open  backward  into  Lincoln's-Inn-Fields.  Here  he  lived  a  private 
and  quiet  life,  still  prosecuting  his  study  and  curious  search  into 
knowledge — the  grand  affair  perpetually  of  his  life — till  such  time 
as  the  war  being  now  at  an  end,  with  complete  victory  to  the  parlia- 
ment's side,  as  the  parliament  then  stood  purged  of  all  its  dissent- 
ing members,  and  the  king,  after  some  treaties  with  the  army, 
re  infecta,  brought  to  his  trial;  the  form  of  government  being  now 
changed  into  a  free  state,  he  was  hereupon  obliged  to  write  a  trea- 
tise, called  the  Tenure  of  Kings  and  Magistrates.  After  which,  his 
thoughts  were  bent  upon  retiring  again  to  his  own  private  studies, 
and  falling  upon  such  subjects  as  his  proper  genius  prompted  him 
to  write  of,  among  which  was  the  history  of  our  own  nation  from 
the  beginning  till  the  Norman  conquest,  wherein  he  had  made 
some  progress.  When  for  this  his  last  treatise,  reviving  the  fame 
of  other  things  he  had  formerly  published,  being  more  and  more 
taken  notice  of  for  his  excellency  of  style  and  depth  of  judgment, 
he  was  courted  into  the  service  of  this  new  commonwealth,  and  at 
last  prevailed  with  (for  he  never  hunted  after  preferment,  nor 
affected  the  tintamar  and  hurry  of  public  business)  to  take  upon 
him  the  office  of  Latin  secretary  to  the  council  of  state,  for  all 
their  letters  to  foreign  princes  and  states ;  for  they  stuck  to  this 
noble  and  generous  resolution,  not  to  write  to  any,  or  receive  an- 
swers from  them,  but  in  a  language  most  proper  to  maintain  a  cor- 
respondence among  the  learned  of  all  nations  in  this  part  of  the 
world,  scorning  to  carry  on  their  affairs  in  the  wheedling,  lisping 
jargon  of  the  cringing  French,  especially  having  a  minister  of  state 
able  to  cope  with  the  ablest  any  prince  or  state  could  employ  for 
the  Latin  tongue  :  and  so  well  he  acquitted  himself  in  this  station, 
that  he  gained,  from  abroad,  both  reputation  to  himself  and  credit 
to  the  state  that  employed  him.  And  it  was  well  the  business  of  his 
office  came  not  very  fast  upon  him,  for  he  was  scarce  well  warm  ia 
his  secretaryship  before  other  work  flowed  in  upon  him,  which 
'ook  him  up  for  some  considerable  time.  In  the  first  place,  there 


36  THE    LIFE    OF    MR.    JOHN    MILTON. 

came  out  a  book,  said  to  have  been  written  by  the  king,  and  finished 
little  before  his  death,  entitled,  EIKMV  Ba<riAixir,  that  is,  The  Royal 
Image— a  book  highly  cried  up  for  its  smooth  style  and  pathetical 
composure:  wherefore,  to  obviate  the  impression  it  was  like  to 
make  among  the  many,  he  was  obliged  to  write  an  answer,  which 
he  entitled  EncovoK^aaTti^  or  Image-breaker.  And,  upon  the  heels 
of  that,  out  comes,  in  public,  tire  great  Kill-cow  of  Christendom, 
with  his  Defensio  Regis  contra  Populum  Anglicanum — a  man  so 
famous  and  cried  up  for  his  Plinian  Exercitations,  and  other  pieces 
of  reputed  learning,  that  there  could  nowhere  have  been  found  a 
champion  that  durst  lift  up  the  pen  against  so  formidable  an  ad- 
versary, had  not  our  little  English  David  had  the  courage  to  under- 
take this  great  French  Goliah,  to  whom  he  gave  such  a  hit  in  the 
forehead,  that  he  presently  staggered,  and  soon  after  fell ;  for,  im- 
mediately upon  the  coming  out  of  the  answer,  entitled,  Defensit 
Populi  Anglicani,  contra  claudium  Anonymum,  &c.,  he  that  tilJ 
then  had  been  chief  minister  and  superintendent  in  the  court  o* 
the  learned  Christina,  Queen  of  Sweden,  dwindled  in  esteem  to 
that  degree,  that  he  at  last  vouchsafed  to  speak  to  the  meanest 
servant.  In  short,  he  was  dismissed  with  so  cold  and  slighting 
an  adieu,  that,  after  a  faint  dying  reply,  he  was  glad  to  have  re- 
course to  death,  the  remedy  of  evils  and  ender  of  controversies. 
And  now  I  presume  our  author  had  some  breathing  space :  but  it 
was  not  long ;  for,  though  Salmasius  was  departed,  he  left  some 
stings  behind— new  enemies  started  up,  barkers,  though  no  great 
biters.  Who  the  first  assertor  of  Salinasius's  cause  was,  is  not  cer- 
tainly known,  but  variously  conjectured  at,  some  supposing  it  to 
be  one  Janus,  a  lawyer  of  Gray's-Inn,  some  Dr.  Bramhal,  made  by 
King  Charles  the  Second,  after  his  restoration,  Archbishop  of 
Armagh,  in  Ireland.  But,  whoever  the  author  was,  the  book  was 
thought  fit  to  be  taken  into  correction,  and  our  author,  not  think- 
ing it  worth  his  own  undertaking,  to  the  disturbing  the  progress 
of  whatever  more  chosen  work  he  had  then  in  hands,  committed 
this  task  to  the  youngest  of  his  nephews,  but  with  such  exact 
emendations  before  it  went  to  the  press,  that  ft  might  very  well 
have  passed  for  his,  but  that  he  was  willing  the  person  that 
took  the  pains  to  prepare  it  for  his  examination  and  polishment, 
should  have  the  name  and  credit  of  being  the  author;  so  that 
it  came  forth  under  this  title,  Joannis  Philippi  Angli  Defensio  pro 
Populo  Anglicano  contra,  &c.  Daring  the  writing  and  publishing 
of  this  book,  he  lodged  at  one  Thompson's,  next  door  to  the  Bull- 
Head  tavern  at  Charing  Cross,  opening  into  the  Spring  Garden, 
which  seems  to  have  been  only  a  lodging  taken  till  hi?,  designed 


THE    LIFE    OF    MR.    JOHN    M1LTOX.  3? 

apartment  in  Scotland  Yard  was  prepare!  for  him,  for  hither  he 
BOOII  removed  from  the  foresaid  place ;  and  here  his  third  child,  a 
son,  was  born,  which,  through  the  ill-usage,  or  bad  constitution  of 
an  ill-chosen  nurse,  died  an  infant.  From  this  apartment,  whether 
he  thought  it  not  healthy,  or  otherwise  convenient  for  his  use,  or 
whatever  else  was  the  reason,  he  soon  after  took  a  pretty  garden- 
house  in  Petty  France,  in  Westminster,  next  door  to  the  Lord 
Scudamore's,  and  opening  into  St.  James's  Park.  Here  he  remain- 
ed no  less  than  eight  years,  namely,  from  the  year  1652,  till  within 
a  few  weeks  of  King  Charles  the  Second's  restoration.  In  this 
house,  his  first  wife  dying  in  childbed,  he  married  a  second,  who, 
after  a  year's  time,  died  in  childbed  also.  This  second  marriage 
was  about  two  or  three  years  after  his  being  wholly  deprived  of 
sight,  which  was  just  going  about  the  time  of  his  answering  Sal- 
niasius;  whereupon  his  adversaries  gladly  take  occasion  of  impu- 
ting his  blindness  as  a  judgment  upon  him  for  his  answering  the 
king's  book,  &c.,  whereas  it  is  most  certainly  known  that  his  sight, 
what  with  his  continual  study,  his  being  subject  to  a  headache,  and 
his  perpetual  tampering  with  physic  to  preserve  it,  had  been  de- 
caying for  above  a  dozen  years  before,  and  the  sight  of  one,  for  a 
long  time,  clearly  lost.  Here  he  wrote,  by  his  amanuensis,  his  two 
answers  to  Alexander  More,  who,  upon  the  last  answer,  quitted  the 
field.  So  that,  being  now  quiet  from  state- adversaries  and  public 
contests,  he  had  leisure  again  for  his  own  studies  and  private  de- 
signs— which  were  his  foresaid  History  of  England,  and  a  new 
Thesaurus  Linguae  Latinse,  according  to  the  manner  of  Stephanus, 
a  work  he  had  been  long  since  collecting  from  his  own  reading, 
and  still  went  on  with  it  at  times,  even  very  near  to  his  dying  day  ; 
but  the  papers,  after  his  death,  were  so  discomposed  and  deficient, 
that  it  could  not  be  made  fit  for  the  press  :  however,  what  there 
was  of  it,  was  made  use  of  for  another  dictionary.  But  the  heigh, 
of  his  noble  fancy  arid  invention  began  now  to  be  seriously  and 
mainly  employed  in  a  subject  worthy  of  such  a  muse,  viz. :  An 
heroic  poem,  entitled,  Paradise  Lost;  the  noV.est,  in  the  general 
esteem  of  learned  and  judicious  persons,  of  any  yet  written  1  y 
sny  either  ancient  or  modern.  This  subject  was  first  designed 
'A  tragedy,  and  in  the  fourth  book  of  the  poem  there  are  six 
verses,  which,  several  years  before  the  poem  was  begun,  were 
shown  to  ine,  and  some  others,  as  designed  for  the  very  beginning 
of  the  said  tragedy.  The  verses  are  these : 

O  thou  that  with  surpassing  glory  crown'd  1 
Look'st  from  thy  sole  dominion,  like  the  God 
Of  this  new  world ;  at  whose  sight  all  the  stara 


88  THE    LIFE    OF    MR.    JOHN    MILTON. 

Hide  their  diminish'd  heads  ;  to  thee  I  call, 
But  with  no  friendly  voice  ;  and  add  thy  name, 

0  Sun  I  to  tell  thee  how  I  hate  thy  beams, 
That  bring  to  my  remembrance  from  what  state 

1  fell ;  how  glorious  once  above  thy  sphere  ; 
Till  pride  and  worse  ambition  threw  me  down, 
Warring  in  Heaven  against  Heaven's  glorious  King. 

There  is  another  very  remarkable  passage  in  the  composure  of  this 
poem,  which  I  have  a  particular  occasion  to  remember,  for  whereas 
I  had  the  perusal  of  it  from  the  very  beginning — for  some  years  as 
I  went  from  time  to  time  to  visit  him — in  a  parcel  often,  twenty,  or 
thirty  verses  at  a  time,  which  being  written  by  whatever  hand  came 
next,  might  possibly  want  correction  as  to  the  orthography  and 
pointing :  having,  as  the  summer  came  on,  not  been  showed  any 
for  a  considerable  while,  and  desiring  the  reason  thereof,  was  an 
hwered  that  his  vein  never  happily  flowed  but  from  the  autumnal 
equinoctial  to  the  vernal,  and  that  whatever  he  attempted  was  never 
to  his  satisfaction,  though  he  courted  his  fancy  never  so  much ;  so 
that  in  all  the  years  he  was  about  this  poem,  he  may  be  said  to  have 
spent  but  half  his  time  therein.  It  was  but  a  little  before  the  king's 
restoration  that  he  wrote  and  published  his  book  in  defence  of  a  com- 
monwealth— so  undaunted  he  was  in  declaring  his  true  sentiments 
to  the  world  ;  and  not  long  before,  his  power  of  the  civil  magistrate 
in  ecclesiastical  affairs ;  and  his  treatise  against  Hirelings,  just  upon 
the  king's  coming  over.  Having  a  little  before  been  sequestered 
from  his  office  of  Latin  Secretary,  and  the  salary  thereunto  belong- 
ing, he  was  forced  to  leave  his  house  also,  in  Petty  France,  where 
all  the  time  of  his  abode  there,  which  was  eight  years,  as  above- 
mentioned,  he  was  frequently  visited  by  persons  of  quality,  par- 
ticularly my  Lady  Eanala,  whose  son  for  some  time  he  instructed ; 
all  learned  foreigners  of  note,  who  could  not  part  out  of  this  city 
without  giving  a  visit  to  a  person  so  eminent ;  and,  lastly,  by  par- 
ticular friends  that  had  a  high  esteem  for  him,  viz.,  Mr.  Andrew 
Man  el,  young  Laurence  (the  son  of  him  that  was  president  of 
Oliver's  counsel),  to  whom  there  is  a  sonnet  among  the  rest  hi  his 
printed  poems ;  Mr.  March amont  Needham,  the  writer  of  Politi- 
cus  ;  but,  above  all,  Mr.  Syriak  Skinner,  whom  he  honored  with  two 
sonnets — one  long  since  public  among  his  poems,  the  other  but 
newly  printed.  His  next  removal  was  by  the  advice  of  those  that 
wished  him  well  and  had  a  concern  for  his  preservation,  into  a  place 
of  retirement  and  abscondence,  till  such  time  as  the  current  of  af- 
fairs for  the  future  should  instruct  him  what  farther  course  to  take. 
It  was  a  friend's  house,  in  Bartholomew  Close,  where  he  lived  till 
the  act  of  oblivion  came  forth,  which  it  pleased  God  proved  as  fa- 


THE    LIFE    OF    MR.    JOHN    MILTON.  3& 

vorable  to  him  as  could  be  hoped  or  expected,  through  the  inter- 
cession  of  some  that  stood  his  friends  both  in  council  and  parlia- 
ment: particularly  in  the  House  of  Commons,  Mr.  Andrew  Mar- 
vel, a  member  for  Hull,  acted  vigorously  in  his  behalf,  and  made  a 
considerable  party  for  him ;  so  that,  together  with  John  Goodwin, 
of  Coleman-street,  he  was  only  so  far  excepted  as  not  to  bear  any 
office  in  the  commonwealth.  Soon  after  appearing  again  in  public, 
he  took  a  house  in  Holborn,  near  Red  Lion  Fields,  where  he  stayed 
not  long  before  his  pardon  having  passed  the  seal,  he  removed  to 
Jewin-street ;  there  he  lived  when  he  married  his  third  wife,  re- 
commended to  him  by  his  old  friend  Dr.  Paget,  in  Coleman-street. 
But  he  staid  not  long  afier  his  new  marriage  ere  he  removed  to  a 
house  in  the  Artillery- walk,  leading  to  Bunhill  Fields.  And  this 
was  his  last  stage  in  this  world,  but  it  was  of  many  years'  continu- 
ance, more  perhaps  than  he  had  had  in  any  other  place  beside?. 
Here  he  finished  his  noble  poem,  and  published  it  in  the  year  1666. 
The  first  edition  was  printed  in  quarto,  by  one  Simons,  a  printer, 
in  Aldersgate-street ;  the  other  in  a  large  octavo,  by  Starky,  near 
Temple  Bar,  amended,  enlarged,  and  differently  disposed  as  to  the 
number  of  books,  by  his  own  hand — that  is,  by  his  own  appoint- 
ment; the  last  set  forth  ma«y  years  since  his  death  in  a  large  folio, 
with  cuts,  added  by  Jacob  Tonson.  Here  it  was  also  that  he  fin- 
ished and  published  his  history  of  our  nation  till  the  conquest — all 
complete  so  far  as  he  went;  some  passages  only  excepted,  which, 
being  thought  too  sharp  against  the  clergy,  could  not  pass  the  hand 
of  the  licencer,  were  in  the  hands  of  the  late  Earl  of  Anglesey  while 
he  lived,  where  at  present  is  uncertain.  It  cannot  certainly  be  con- 
cluded when  he  wrote  his  excellent  tragedy  entitled  Samson  Ago- 
nistess  but  sure  enough  it  is  that  it  came  forth  after  his  publication 
of  Paradise  Lost,  together  with  his  other  poem  called  Paradise  Re- 
gained, which  doubtless  was  begun  and  finished  and  printed  after 
the  other  was  published,  and  that  in  a  wonderful  short  space,  con- 
sidering the  sublimeness  of  it.  However,  it  is  generally  censured  to 
be  much  inferior  to  the  other,  though  he  could  not  hear  with  pa- 
tience any  such  thing  when  related  to  him  :  possibly,  the  subject 
may  not  afford  such  variety  of  invention  ;  but  it  is  thought  by  the 
most  judicious  to  be  little  or  nothing  inferior  to  the  other  for  style 
and  decorum.  The  said  Earl  of  Anglesey,  whom  he  presented  with 
a  copy  of  the  unlicensed  papers  of  his  history,  came  often  here  tc 
visit  him,  as  very  much  coveting  his  society  and  converse,  as  like- 
wise others  of  the  nobility,  and  many  persons  of  eminent  quality : 
nor  were  the  visits  of  foreigners  ever  more  frequent  than  in  this 
place,  almost  to  his  dying  day.  His  treatise  of  true  Religion,  Her- 


40  THE    LIFE    OF    MR.    JOHN    MILTON. 

esy,  Schism,  and  Toleration,  &c.,  was  doubtless  the  l&st  thing  of 
his  writing  that  was  published  before  his  death.  He  had,  as  I  re- 
member, prepared  for  the  press  an  answer  to  some  little  scribing 
•luack  in  London,  who  had  written  a  scurrilous  libel  against  him, 
but  whether  by  the  dissuasion  of  friends,  as  thinking  him  a  fellow 
not  worth  his  notice,  or  for  whatever  cause  I  know  not,  this  answer 
was  never  published.  He  died  in  the  year  1673,  towards  the  latte 
end  of  the  summer,  and  had  a  very  decent  interment  according 
to  his  quality,  in  the  church  of  St.  Giles,  Cripplegate,  being  at- 
tended from  his  house  to  the  church  by  several  gentlemen  then  in 
town,  his  principal  well-wishers  and  admirers.  He  had  three  daugh- 
ters, who  survived  him  many  years  (and  a  son),  all  by  his  first 
wife  (of  whom  sufficient  mention  hath  been  made).  Anne,  his 
eldest,  as  above  said,  and  Mary,  his  second,  who  were  both  born 
at  his  house  in  Barbican ;  and  Debora,  the  youngest,  who  is  yet 
living,  born  at  his  house  in  Petty  France,  between  whom  and  his 
second  daughter,  the  son,  named  John,  was  born,  as  above  men- 
tioned, at  his  apartment  in  Scotland  Yard.  By  his  second  wife, 
Catharine,  the  daughter  of  Captain  Woodcock,  of  Hackney,  he  had 
only  one  daughter,  of  which  the  mother,  the  first  year  after  her  mar- 
'  iage,  died  in  childbed,  and  the  child  also  within  a  month  after.  By 
his  third  wife,  Elizabeth,  the  daughter  of  one  Mr.  Minshal,  of  Che- 
shire (and  kinswoman  to  Dr.  Paget),  who  survived  him,  and  is  said 
,  <>  be  yet  living,  he  never  had  any  child.  And  those  he  had  by  the 
first  he  made  serviceable  to  him  in  that  very  particular  in  which  he 
most  wanted  their  service,  and  supplied  his  want  of  eyesight  by 
their  eyes  and  tongue :  for  though  he  had  daily  about  him  one 
or  other  to  read  to  him,  some  person  of  man's  estate,  who  of 
their  own  accord  greedily  catched  at  the  opportunity  of  being  his 
readers,  that  they  might  as  well  reap  the  benefit  of  what  they  read 
to  him,  as  oblige  him  by  the  benefit  of  their  reading ;  others,  ot 
younger  years,  sent  by  their  parents  to  the  same  end ;  yet  excu- 
sing only  the  eldest  daughter  by  reason  of  her  bodily  infirmity 
and  difficult  utterance  of  speech  (which,  to  say  the  truth,  I  doubt 
was  the  principal  eause  of  excusing  her),  the  other  two  were  con 
demned  to  the  performance  of  reading,  and  exactly  pronouncing  of  all 
the  languages  of  whatever  book  he  should  at  one  time  or  other  think 
fit  to  peruse  ;  viz.,  the  Hebrew  (and  I  think  the  Syriac),  the  Greek, 
the  Latin,  the  Italian,  Spanish,  and  French.  All  which  sorts  of  books 
to  be  confined  to  read,  without  understanding  one  word,  must 
needs  be  a  trial  of  patience,  almost  beyond  endurance  ;  yet  it  was 
endured  by  both  for  a  long  time.  Yet  the  irksomeness  of  this  em- 
ployment could  not  be  always  concealed,  but  broke  out  more  and 


THE    LIFE    OF    MR.    JOHN    MILTON.  41 

more  into  expressions  of  uneasiness ;  so  that  at  length  they  were 
all  (even  the  eldest  also)  sent  out  to  learn  some  curious  and  inge- 
nious sorts  of  manufacture,  that  are  proper  for  women  to  learn,  par- 
ticularly embroideries  in  gold  pr  silver.  It  had  been  happy  in- 
deed if  the  daughters  of  such  a  person  had  been  made  in  some 
measure  inheritrixes  of  their  father's  learning ;  but  since  fate  other- 
wise decreed,  the  greatest  honor  that  can  be  ascribed  to  this  now 
living  (and  so  would  have  been  to  the  others  had  they  lived),  is  to 
be  daughter  to  a  man  of  his  extraordinary  character. 

lie  is  said  to  have  died  worth  £1,500  in  money,  a  considerable 
estate,  all  things  considered,  besides  household  goods ;  for  ho 
sustained  such  losses  as  might  well  have  broke  any  person  less 
frugal  and  temperate  than  himself.  No  less  than  £2,000,  which 
he  had  put  for  security  and  improvement  into  the  excise  office ;  but 
neglecting  to  recall  it  in  time,  could  never  after  get  it  out,  with  all 
the  power  and  interest  he  had  in  the  great  ones  of  those  times ;  be- 
sides another  great  sum,  by  mismanagement  and  want  for  of  good 
advice. 

Thus  I  have  reduced  into  form  and  order  whatever  I  have  been 
able  to  rally  up,  either  from  the  recollection  of  my  own  memory, 
of  things  transacted  while  I  was  with  him,  or  the  information  oi 
others  equally  conversant  afterwards,  or  from  his  own  mouth,  by 
frequent  visits  to  the  last. 

I  shall  conclude  with  two  material  passages,  which,  though  they 
relate  not  immediately  to  our  author,  or  his  own  particular  con- 
cerns ;  yet  in  regard  they  happened  during  hi^  public  employ,  and, 
consequently,  fell  more  especially  under  his  cognizance,  it  will  not 
be  amiss  here  to  subjoin  them.  The  first  was  this  : 

Before  the  war  broke  forth  between  the  states  of  England  and 
the  Dutch,  tho  Hollanders  sent  over  three  ambassadors,  in  order 
to  an  accommodation,  but  they  returning  re  inftcta,  the  Dutch 
sent  away  a  plenipotentiary  to  offer  peace  upon  much  milder  terms, 
or  at  least  to  gain  more  time. 

But  this  plenipotentiary  could  not  make  such  haste,  but  that  the 
parliament  had  procured  a  copy  of  their  instructions  in  Holland, 
which  were  delivered  by  our  author  to  his  kinsmen  that  was  then 
with  him,  to  translate  for  the  council  to  view,  before  the  said 
plenipotentiary  had  taken  shipping  for  England :  an  answer  to  all 
he  had  in  charge  lay  ready  for  Mm,  before  he  made  his  public 
entry  into  London. 

In  the  next  place,  there  came  a  person  with  a  very  sumptuous 
train,  pretending  himself  an  agent  from  the  Prince  of  Conde,  then 
in  ar-ms  against  Cardinal  Mazarine:  the  parliament  mistrusting 


42  THE    LIFE    OF    MR.    JOHN    MILTON. 

him,  set  their  instrument  so  busily  at  work,  that  in  four  or  five 
days  they  had  procured  intelligence  from  Paris,  that  lie  was  a  spy 
from  King  Charles ;  whereupon,  the  very  next  morning,  our  au- 
thor's kinsman  was  sent  to  him,  with  an  order  of  council,  com- 
manding him  to  depart  the  kingdom  within  three  days,  or  expect 
the  punishment  of  a  spy. 

By  these  two  remarkable  passages,  we  may  clearly  disco  fei  thf 
li  nine  try  and  good  intelligence  of  those  times. 


PARADISE   LOST. 


BOOK  I. 

THE   ARGUMENT. 

TLls  first  book  proposes,  first,  in  brief,  the  whole  subject,  Man's  disobedience,  and 
the  loss  thereupon  of  Paradise,  wherein  he  was  placed :  then  touches  the  prime 
cause  of  his  fall,  the  Serpent,  or  rather  Satan  in  the  serpent;  who  revolting  from 
God,  and  drawing  to  his  side  many  legions  of  Angels,  was,  by  the  command  of 
God,  driven  out  of  Heaven,  with  all  his  crew,  into  the  great  deep.  Which  action 
passed  over,  the  poem  hastens  into  the  midst  of  things,  presenting  Satan  with  his 
Angels  now  fallen  Into  Hell,  described  here,  not  in  the  centre  (for  Heaven  and 
Earth  may  be  supposed  as  yet  not  made,  certainly  not  yet  accursed),  but  in  a  place 
of  utter  darkness,  fitliest  called  Chaos:  here  Satan  with  his  Angels  lying  on  the 
burning  lake,  thunderstruck  and  astonished,  after  a  certain  space  recovers,  as 
from  confusion,  calls  up  him  who  next  in  order  and  dignity  lay  by  him  ;  they  con- 
fer of  their  miserable  fall.  Satan  awakens  all  his  legions,  who  lay  till  then  in  the 
same  manner  confounded :  they  rise,  their  numbers,  array  of  battle,  their  chief 
leaders  named,  according  to  the  idols  known  afterwards  in  Canaan  and  the  coun- 
tries adjoining.  To  these  Satan  directs  his  speech,  comforts  them  with  hope  yet 
of  regaining  Heaven,  but  tells  them  lastly  of  a  new  world  and  new  kind  of  crea- 
ture to  be  created,  according  to  an  ancient  prophecy  or  report  in  Heaven  ;  for  that 
Angels  were  long  before  this  visible  creation,  was  the  opinion  of  many  ancient 
Fathers.  To  find  out  the  truth  of  this  prophecy,  and  what  to  determine  thereon, 
he  refers  to  a  full  council.  What  his  associates  thence  attempt.  Pandemonium, 
the  palace  of  Satan,  rises  suddenly,  built  out  of  the  deep  :  the  infernal  peers  there 
Bit  in  council. 

OF  Man's  first  disobedience,  and  the  fruit 

Of  that  forbidden  tree,  whose  mortal  taste 

Brought  death  into  the  world,  and  all  our  woe, 

With  loss  of  Eden,  till  one  greater  Man 

Restore  us,  and  regain  the  blissful  seat, 

Sing,  heavenly  Muse,  that  on  the  secret  top 

Of  Oreb,  or  of  Sinai,  didst  inspire 

That  shepherd,  who  first  taught  the  chosen  seed, 

In  the  beginning  how  the  heavens  and  earth 

Rose  out  of  Chaos.     Or,  if  Sion  hill 

Delight  thee  more,  and  Siloa's  brook,  that  flow'd 

Fast  by  the  oracle  of  God ;  I  thence  12 


44  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  i. 

Invoke  thy  aid  to  my  adventurous  song, 

That  with  no  middle  flight  intends  to  soar 

Above  the  Aonian  mount,  while  it  pursues 

Things  unattempted  yet  in  prose  or  rhyme. 

And  chiefly  Thou,  O  Spirit,  that  dost  prefer 

Before  all  temples  the  upright  heart  and  pure, 

Instruct  me,  for  Thou  knowest:  Thou  from  the  first 

Wast  present,  and,  with  mighty  wings  outspread, 

Dove-like  sat'st  brooding  on  the  vast  abyss, 

And  mad'st  it  pregnant.     What  in  me  is  dark,  22 

Illumine ;  what  is  low,  raise  and  support ; 

That  to  the  height  of  this  great  argument 

I  may  assert  Eternal  Providence, 

And  justify  the  ways  of  God  to  men. 

Say  first,  for  Heaven  hides  nothing  from  thy  view 
Nor  the  deep  tract  of  Hell ;  say  first,  what  cause 
Moved  our  grand  parents,  in  that  happy  state, 
Favored  of  Heaven  so  highly,  to  fall  off 
From  their  Creator,  and  transgress  his  will 
For  one  restraint,  lords  of  the  world  besides? 
"Who  first  seduced  them  to  that  foul  revolt?  33 

The  infernal  Serpent :  he  it  was,  whose  guile, 
Stirr'd  up  with  envy  and  revenge,  deceived 
The  mother  of  mankind,  what  time  his  pride 
Had  cast  him  out  from  Heaven,  with  all  his  host 
Of  rebel  angels  ;  by  whose  aid  aspiring 
To  set  himself  in  glory  above  his  peers, 
He  trusted  to  have  equall'd  the  Most  High, 
If  he  opposed ;  and,  with  ambitious  aim 
Against  the  throne  and  monarchy  of  God, 
Raised  impious  war  in  Heaven,  and  battle  proud, 
With  vain  attempt.    Him  the  Almighty  Power  44 

Hurl'd  headlong  flaming  from  the  ethereal  sky, 
With  hideous  ruin  and  combustion,  down 
To  bottomless  perdition ;  there  to  dwell 
In  adamantine  chains  and  penal  fire, 
Who  durst  defy  the  Omnipotent  to  arms. 
Nine  times  the  space  that  measures  day  and  night 
To  mortal  men,  he  with  his  horrid  crew 
Lay  vanquished,  rolling  in  the  fiery  gulf, 
Confounded,  though  immortal.    But  his  doom 
Reserved  him  to  more  wrath  ;  for  now  the  thought 
Both  of  lost  happiness  and  lasting  pain  55 


B.  I.]  PARADISE    LOST.  45 

Torments  him :  round  he  throws  his  baleful  eyes, 

That  witnessed  huge  affliction  and  dismay, 

Mix'd  with  obdurate  pride  and  steadfast  hate  : 

At  once,  as  far  as  angels  ken,  he  views 

The  dismal  situation  waste  and  wild : 

A  dungeon  horrible,  on  all  sides  round, 

As  one  great  furnace,  flamed ;  yet  from  those  flames 

No  light ;  but  rather  darkness  visible 

Served  only  to  discover  sights  of  woe, 

Regions  of  sorrow,  doleful  shades,  wrhere  peace  65 

And  rest  can  never  dwell ;  hope  never  comes 

That  comes  to  all ;  but  torture  without  end 

Still  urges,  and  a  fiery  deluge,  fed 

With  ever-burning  sulphur  unconsumed : 

Such  place  Eternal  Justice  had  prepared 

For  those  rebellious ;  here  their  prison  ordainM 

In  utter  darkness,  and  their  portion  set 

As  far  removed  from  God  and  light  of  Heaven, 

As  from  the  centre  thrice  to  the  utmost  pole. 

Oh,  how  unlike  the  place  from  whence  they  fell  1 

There  the  companions  of  his  fall,  o'erwhelm'd  76 

With  floods  and  whirlwinds  of  tempestuous  fire, 

He  soon  discerns,  and,  weltering  by  his  side, 

One  next  himself  in  power,  and  next  in  crime, 

Long  after  known  in  Palestine,  and  named 

Beelzebub.     To  whom  the  Arch-Enemy, 

And  thence  in  Heaven  call'd  Satan,  with  bold  words 

Breaking  the  horrid  silence  thus  began. 

"If  thou  beest  he;  but  oh,  how  fall'n!  how  changed 
From  him,  who,  in  the  happy  realms  of  light, 
Clothed  with  transcendent  brightness,  didst  outshine 
Myriads  though  bright !     If  he  whom  mutual  league,   87 
"United  thoughts  and  counsels,  equal  hope 
And  hazard  in  the  glorious  enterprise, 
Join'd  with  me  once,  now  misery  hath  join'd 
In  equal  ruin :  into  what  pit  thou  seest, 
From  what  height  falPn,  so  much  the  stronger  proved 
He  with  his  thunder :  and  till  then  who  knew 
The  force  of  those  dire  arms?    Yet  not  for  those, 
Nor  what  the  potent  Victor  in  his  rage 
Can  else  inflict,  do  I  repent,  or  change, 
Though  changed  in  outward  lustre,  that  fix'd  mind, 
And  high  disdain  from  sense  of  injured  merit,  98 


46  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  L 

That  with  the  Mightiest  raised  me  to  contend, 

And  to  the  fierce  contention  brought  along 

Innumerable  force  of  spirits  arm'd, 

That  durst  dislike  his  reign,  and,  me  preferring, 

His  utmost  power  with  adverse  power  opposed 

In  dubious  battle  on  the  plains  of  Heaven, 

And  shook  his  throne.    What  though  the  field  be  lost? 

All  is  not  lost ;  the  unconquerable  will, 

And  study  of  revenge,  immortal  hate, 

And  courage  never  to  submit  or  yield,  108 

And  what  is  else  not  to  be  overcome ; 

That  glory  never  shall  his  wrath  or  might 

Extort  from  me.     To  bow  and  sue  for  grace 

"With  suppliant  knee,  and  deify  his  power, 

"Who  from  the  terror  of  this  arm  so  late 

Doubted  his  empire ;  that  were  low  indeed, 

That  were  an  ignominy  and  shame  beneath 

This  downfall ;  since,  by  fate,  the  strength  of  gods 

And  this  empyreal  substance  cannot  fail ; 

Since,  through  experience  of  this  great  event, 

In  arms  not  worse,  in  foresight  much  advanced,          119 

We  may  with  more  successful  hope  resolve 

To  wage,  by  force  or  guile,  eternal  war ; 

Irreconcilable  to  our  grand  foe, 

Who  now  triumphs,  and,  in  the  excess  of  joy 

Sole  reigning,  holds  the  tyranny  of  Heaven." 

So  spake  the  apostate  angel,  though  in  pain, 
Vaunting  aloud,  but  rack'd  with  deep  despair : 
And  him  thus  answer'd  soon  his  bold  compeer. 

"  O  Prince,  O  Chief  of  many  throned  Powers ! 
That  led  the  embattled  Seraphim  to  war 
Under  thy  conduct,  and,  in  dreadful  deeds  130 

Fearless,  endanger' d  Heaven's  perpetual  King, 
And  put  to  proof  his  high  supremacy ; 
Whether  upheld  by  strength,  or  chance,  or  fate ; 
Too  well  I  see  and  rue  the  dire  event, 
That  with  sad  overthrow  and  foul  defeat 
Hath  lost  us  Heaven,  and  all  this  mighty  host 
In  horrible  destruction  laid  thus  low, 
As  far  as  gods  and  heavenly  essences 
Can  perish:  for  the  mind  and  spirit  remains 
Invincible,  and  vigor  soon  returns, 
Though  all  our  glory  extinct,  and.  happy  state  141 


I.]  PARADISE    LOST.  47 

Here  swallowed  up  in  endless  misery. 

But  what  if  he  our  Conqueror  (whom  I  now 

Of  force  believe  Almighty,  since  no  less 

Than  such  could  have  o'erpower'd  such  force  as  c  urs) 

Have  left  us  this  our  spirit  and  strength  entire, 

Strongly  to  suffer  and  support  our  pains, 

That  we  may  so  suffice  his  vengeful  ire, 

Or  do  him  mightier  service  as  his  thralls 

By  right  of  war,  whatever  his  business  be, 

Here  in  the  heart  of  Hell  to  work  in  fire,  151 

Or  do  his  errands  in  the  gloomy  deep ; 

What  can  it  then  avail,  though  yet  we  feel 

Strength  undiminish'd,  or  eternal  being, 

To  undergo  eternal  punishment  ?" 

Whereto  with  speedy  words  the  Arch-Fiend  replied. 

"FalPn  cherub,  to  be  weak  is  miserable, 
Doing  or  suffering :  but  of  this  be  sure, 
To  do  aught  good  never  will  be  our  task, 
But  ever  to  do  ill  our  sole  delight, 
As  being  the  contrary  to  his  high  will 
Whom  we  resist.     If  then  his  providence  162 

Out  of  our  evil  seek  to  bring  forth  good, 
Our  labor  must  be  to  pervert  that  end, 
And  out  of  good  still  to  find  means  of  evil ; 
Which  ofttimes  may  succeed,  so  as  perhaps 
Shall  grieve  him,  if  I  fail  not,  and  disturb 
His  inmost  counsels  from  their  destined  aim. 
But  see !  the  angry  Victor  hath  recalPd 
His  ministers  of  vengeance  and  pursuit 
Back  to  the  gates  of  Heaven  ;  the  sulphurous  hail, 
Shot  after  us  in  storm,  overblown,  hath  laid 
The  fiery  surge,  that  from  the  precipice  173 

Of  Heaven  received  us  falling ;  and  the  thunder, 
Wing'd  with  red  lightning  and  impetuous  rage, 
Perhaps  hath  spent  his  shafts,  and  ceases  now 
To  bellow  through  the  vast  and  boundless  deep. 
Let  us  not  slip'  the  occasion,  whether  scorn, 
Or  satiate  fury,  yield  it  from  our  foe. 
Seest  thou  yon  dreary  plain,  forlorn  and  wild, 
The  seat  of  desolation,  void  of  light, 
Save  what  the  glimmering  of  these  livid  flames 
Casts  pale  and  dreadful  ?     Thither  let  us  tend 
From  off  the  tossing  of  these  fiery  waves ;  184 


48  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

There  rest,  if  any  rest  can  harbor  there ; 
And,  reassembling  our  afflicted  Powers, 
Consult  how  we  may  henceforth  most  offend 
Our  Enemy ;  our  own  loss  how  repair ; 
How  overcome  this  dire  calamity ; 
What  reinforcement  we  may  gain  from  hope : 
If  not,  what  resolution  from  despair." 

Thus  Satan,  talking  to  his  nearest  mate, 
With  head  uplift  above  the  wave,  and  eyes 
That  sparkling  blazed ;  his  other  parts  besides  194 

Prone  on  the  flood,  extended  long  and  large, 
Lay  floating  many  a  rood,  in  bulk  as  huge 
As  whom  the  fables  name  of  monstrous  size, 
Titanian,  or  Earth-born,  that  warr'd  on  Jove  ; 
Briareus,  or  Typhon,  whom  the  den 
By  ancient  Tarsus  held ;  or  that  sea-beast 
Leviathan,  which  God  of  all  his  works 
Created  hugest  that  swim  the  ocean  stream : 
Him,  haply  slumbering  on  the  Norway  foarn, 
The  pilot  of  some  small  night-founder'd  skiff 
Deeming  some  island,  oft,  as  seamen  tell,  205 

With  fixed  anchor  in  his  scaly  rind 
Moors  by  his  side  under  the  lee,  while  night 
Invests  the  sea,  and  wished  morn  delays : 
So  stretch'd  out  huge  in  length  the  Arch-Fiend  lay. 
Chain' d  on  the  burning  lake ;  nor  ever  thence 
Had  risen,  or  heaved  his  head,  but  that  the  will 
-  And  high  permission  of  all-ruling  Heaven 
Left  him  at  large  to  his  own  dark  designs ; 
That  with  reiterated  crimes  he  might 
Heap  on  himself  damnation,  while  he  sought 
Evil  to  others ;  and,  enraged,  might  see  216 

How  all  his  malice  served  but  to  bring  forth 
Infinite  goodness,  grace,  and  mercy,  shown 
On  man,  by  him  seduced ;  but  on  himself 
Treble  confusion,  wrath,  and  vengeance  pour'd. 
Forthwith  upright  he  rears  from  oif  the  pool 
His  mighty  stature ;  on  each  hand  the  flames, 
Driven  backward,  slope  their  pointing  spires,  and,  rolPcl 
In  billows,  leave  i'  the  midst  a  horrid  vale. 
Then  with  expanded  wings  he  steers  his  flight 
Aloft,  incumbent  on  the  dusky  air, 
That  felt  unusual  weight ;  till  on  dry  land  227 


B.  1. 1  PARADISE    LOST.  49 

He  lights,  if  it  were  land  that  ever  burn'd 
With  solid,  as  the  lake  with  liquid  fire : 
And  such  appeared  in  hue,  as  when  the  force 
-  Of  subterranean  wind  transports  a  hill 
Torn  from  Pelorus,  or  the  shattered  side 
Of  thundering  ^Etna,  whose  combustible 
And  fuell'd  entrails  thence  conceiving  fire, 
Sublimed  with  mineral  fury,  aid  the  winds, 
And  leave  a  singed  bottom  all  involved 
With  stench  and  smoke :  such  resting  found  the  sole  237 
Of  unblest  feet.    Him  followed  his  next  mate ; 
Both  glorying  to  have  'scaped  the  Stygian  flood 
As  gods,  and  by  their  own  recovered  strength, 
Not  by  the  sufferance  of  supernal  Power. 

uls  this  the  region,  this  the  s'il,  the  clime," 
Said  then  the  lost  Archangel,  "this  the  seat 
That  we  must  change  for  Heaven ;  this  mournfiu  gloom 
For  that  celestial  light?    Be  it  so !  since  he 
Who  now  is  Sovereign  can  dispose  and  bid 
What  shall  be  right :  farthest  from  him  is  best. 
Whom  reason  hath  equalPd,  force  hath  made  supreme  243 
Above  his  equals.    Farewell,  happy  fields, 
Where  joy  forever  dwells !    Hail,  horrors !  hail, 
Infernal  world  I    And  thou,  profoundest  Hell, 
Receive  thy  now  possessor ;  one  who  brings 
A  mind  not  to  be  changed  by  place  or  time. 
The  mind  is  its  own  place,  and  in  itself 
Can  make  a  Heaven  of  Hell,  a  Hell  of  Heaven. 
What  matter  where,  if  I  be  still  the  same, 
And  what  I  should  be,  all  but  less  than  he 
Whom  thunder  hath  made  greater?     Here  at  least 
We  shall  be  free ;  the  Almighty  hath  not  built  259 

Here  for  his  envy,  will  not  drive  us  hence : 
Here  we  may  reign  secure,  and  in  my  choice, 
To  reign  is  worth  ambition,  though  in  Hell : 
Better  to  reign  in  Hell,  than  serve  in  Heaven. 
But  wherefore  let  we  then  our  faithful  friends, 
The  associates  and  copartners  of  our  loss, 
Lie  thus  astonish'd  on  the  oblivious  pool, 
And  call  them  not  to  share  with  us  their  part 
In  this  unhappy  mansion ;  or  once  more, 
With  rallied  arms,  to  try  what  may  be  yet 
Regained  in  Heaven,  or  what  more  lost  in  Hell  ?"        27C 
5 


50  MILTON  S    POETICAL   WORKS.  [B.  L 

So  Satan  spake ;  and  him  Beelzebub 
Thus  answer'd.    "Leader  of  those  armies  bright, 
Which  but  the  Omnipotent  none  could  have  foil'dl 
If  once  they  hear  that  voice,  their  liveliest  pledge 
Of  hope  in  fears  and  dangers,  heard  so  oft 
In  worst  extremes,  and  on  the  perilous  edge 
Of  battle  when  it  raged,  in  all  assaults 
Their  surest  signal,  they  will  soon  resume 
New  courage  and  revive,  though  now  they  lie 
Grovelling  and  prostrate  on  yon  lake  of  fire,  2Sf 

As  we  ere  while,  astounded  and  amazed : 
No  wonder,  fallen  such  a  pernicious  height." 

He  scarce  had  ceased,  when  the  superior  Fiend 
Was  moving,  to  ward  the  shore:  his  ponderous  shield, 
Ethereal  temper,  massy,  large,  and  round, 
Behind  him  cast ;  the  broad  circumference 
Hung  on  his  shoulders  like  the  moon,  whose  orb 
Through  optic  glass  the  Tuscan  artist  views 
At  evening  from  the  top  of  Fesole, 
Or  in  Valdarno,  to  descry  new  lands, 
Rivers,  or  mountains,  in  her  spotty  globe.  291 

His  spear,  to  equal  which  the  tallest  pine 
Hewn  on  Norwegian  hills,  to  be  the  mast 
Of  some  great  ammiral,  were  but  a  wand, 
He  walk'd  with  to  support  uneasy  steps 
Over  the  burning  marie,  not  like  those  steps 
On  Heaven's  azure ;  and  the  torrid  clime 
Smote  on  him  sore  besides,  vaulted  with  fire  : 
Nathless  he  so  endured,  till  on  the  beach 
Of  that  inflamed  sea  he  stood,  and  call'd 
His  legions,  angel  forms,  who  lay  entranced 
Thick  as  autumnal  leaves  that  strew  the  brooks          302 
In  Vallombrosa,  where  the  Etrurian  shades 
High  overarch'd  imbower;  or  scatter' d  sedge 
Afloat,  when  with  fierce  winds  Orion^arm'd 
-Hath  vex'd  the  Red  Sea  coast,  whoscTwaves  overthrew 
Busiris  and  his  Memphian  chivalry, 
While  with  perfidious  hatred  they  pursued 
The  sojourners  of  Goshen,  who  beheld 
From  the  safe  shore  their  floating  carcases 
And  broken  chariot-wheels :  so  thick  bestrown, 
Vbject  and  lost,  lay  these,  covering  the  flood, 

ler  amazement  of  their  hideous  change.  31 8 


£.  I.I  PARADISE    LOST.  51 

He  calPd  so  loud,  that  all  the  hollow  deep 

Of  Hell  resounded.     "  Princes,  Potentates, 

Warriors,  the  flower  of  Heaven,  once  yours,  now  lost. 

If  such  astonishment  as  this  can  seize 

Eternal  spirits ;  or  have  ye  chosen  this  place 

After  the  toil  of  battle  to  repose 

Your  wearied  virtue,  for  the  ease  you  find 

To  slumber  here,  as  in  the  vales  of  Heaven  ? 

Or  in  this  abject  posture  have  ye  sworn 

To  adore  the  Conqueror  ?  who  now  beholds  328 

Cherub  and  seraph  rolling  in  the  flood 

With  scatter'd  arms  and  ensigns,  till  anon 

His  swift  pursuers  from  Heaven-gates  discern 

The  advantage,  and,  descending,  tread  us  down 

Thus  drooping ;  or  with  linked  thunderbolts 

Transfix  us  to  the  bottom  of  this  gulf. 

Awake,  arise,  or  be  forever  fallen!" 

They  heard,  and  were  abash'd,  and  up  they  sprung 
Upon  the  wing,  as  when  men  wont  to  watch 
On  duty,  sleeping  found  by  whom  they  dread, 
Rouse  and  bestir  themselves  ere  well  awake.  334 

Nor  did  they  not  perceive  the  evil  plight 
In  which  they  were,  or  the  fierce  pains  not  feel ; 
Yet  to  their  general's  voice  they  soon  obey'd 
Innumerable.    As  when  the  potent  rod 
Of  Arnram's  son,  in  Egypt's  evil  day, 
Waved  round  the  coast,  up  call'd  a  pitchy  cloud 
Of  locusts,  warping  on  the  eastern  wind, 
That  o'er  the  realm  of  impious  Pharaoh  hung 
Like  night,  and  darken'd  all  the  land  of  Nile : 
So  numberless  were  those  bad  angels  seen 
Hovering  on  wing  under  the  cope  of  Hell,  845 

'Twixt  upper,  nether,  and  surrounding  fires ; 
Till,  at  a  signal  given,  the  uplifted  spear 
Of  their  great  Sultan  waving  to  direct 
Their  course,  in  even  balance  down  they  light 
On  the  firm  brimstone,  and  fill  all  the  plain ; 
A  multitude,  like  which  the  populous  north 
Pour'd  never  from  her  frozen  loins,  to  pass 
Rhene  or  the  Danaw,  when  her  barbarous  suns 
Came  like  a  deluge  on  the  South,  and  spread 
Beneath  Gibraltar  to  the  Libyan  sands. 
Forthwith  from  every  squadron  and  each  band  350 


52  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  'L&.  L 

The  heads  and  leaders  thither  haste  where  stood 

Their  great  commander ;  godlike  shapes,  and  forms 

Excelling  human ;  princely  Dignities ; 

And  Powers  that  erst  in  Heaven  sat  on  thrones ; 

Though  of  their  names  in  heavenly  records  now 

Be  ho  memorial,  blotted  out  and  rased 

By  their  rebellion  from  the  books  of  life. 

Nor  had  they  yet  among  the  sons  of  Eve 

Got  them  new  names ;  till,  wandering  o'er  the  earth, 

Through  God's  high  sufferance,  for  the  trial  of  man,  360 

By  falsities  and  lies  the  greatest  part 

Of  mankind  they  corrupted  to  forsake 

God  their  Creator,  and  the  invisible 

Glory  of  him  that  made  them  to  transform 

Oft  to  the  image  of  a  brute,  adorn'd 

With  gay  religions,  full  of  pomp  and  gold, 

And  devils  to  adore  for  deities : 

Then  were  they  known  to  men  by  various  names, 

And  various  idols  through  the  heathen  world. 

Say,  Muse,  their  names  then  known,  who  first,  who  last, 
Roused  from  the  slumber,  on  that  fiery  couch,  377 

At  their  great  emperor's  call,  as  next  in  worth 
Came  singly  where  he  stood  on  the  bare  strand, 
"While  the  promiscuous  crowd  stood  yet  aloof. 
The  chief  were  those,  who,  from  the  pit  of  Hell 
Roaming  to  seek  their  prey  on  earth,  durst  fix 
Their  seats  long  after  next  the  seat  of  God, 
Their  altars  by  his  altar ;  gods  adored 
Among  the  nations  round ;  and  durst  abide 
Jehovah  thundering  out  of  Sion,  throned 
Between  the  cherubim ;  yea,  often  placed 
Within  his  sanctuary  itself  their  shrines,  '    388 

Abominations ;  and  with  cursed  things 
His  holy  rites  and  solemn  feasts  profaned, 
And  with  their  darkness  durst  affront  his  light. 
First,  Moloch,  horrid  king,  besmear'd  with  blood 
Of  human  sacrifice,  and  parents'  tears ; 
Though,  for  the  noise  of  drums  and  timbrels  loud, 
Their  children's  cries  unheard,  that  pass'd  through  fira 
To  his  grim  idol.     Him  the  Ammonite 
Worshipp'd  in  Rabba  and  her  watery  plain, 
In  Argob  and  in  Basan,  to  the  stream 
Of  utmost  Arnon :  nor  content  with  such  399 


B.  I.J  PARADISE    LOST.  53 

Audacious  neighborhood,  the  wisest  heart 

Of  Solomon  he  led  by  fraud  to  build 

His  temple  right  against  the  temple  of  God, 

On  that  opprobrious  hill ;  and  made  his  grove 

The  pleasant  valley  of  Hinnom,  Tophet  thence 

And  black  Gehenna  call'd,  the  type  of  Hell. 

Next  Chemos,  the  obscene  dread  of  Moab's  sons, 

From  Aroar  to  Nebo,  and  the  wild 

Of  southmost  Abarim ;  in  Hesebon 

And  Horonaim,  Seon's  realm,  beyond  409 

The  flowery  dale  of  Sibma  clad  with  vines ; 

And  Eleale  to  the  Asphaltic  pool. 

Peor  his  other  name,  when  he  enticed 

Israel  in  Sittim,  on  their  march  from  Nile, 

To  do  him  wanton  rites,  which  cost  them  woe. 

Yet  thence  his  lustful  orgies  he  enlarged 

E'en  to  that  hill  of  scandal,  by  the  grove 

Of  Moloch  homicide ;  lust  hard  by  hate ; 

Till  good  Josiah  drove  them  thence  to  Hell. 

With  these  came  they,  who,  from  the  bordering  flood 

Of  old  Euphrates  to  the  brook  that  parts  420 

Egypt  from  Syrian  ground,  had  general  names 

Of  Baalim  and  Ashtaroth ;  those  male, 

These  feminine :  for  spirits,  when  they  please, 

Can  either  sex  assume,  or  both ;  so  soft 

And  uncompounded  is  their  essence  pure ; 

Not  tied  or  manacled  with  joint  or  limb, 

Nor  founded  on  the  brittle  strength  of  bones, 

Like  cumbrous  flesh :  but,  in  what  shape  they  choose, 

Dilated  or  condensed,  bright  or  obscure, 

Can  execute  their  airy  purposes, 

And  works  of  love  or  enmity  fulfil.  431 

For  those  the  race  of  Israel  oft  forsook 

Their  living  Strength,  and  unfrequented  left 

His  righteous  altar,  bowing  lowly  down 

To  bestial  gods ;  for  which  their  heads  as  low 

Bow'd  down  in  battle,  sunk  before  the  spear 

Of  despicable  foes.     With  these  in  troop 

Came  Astoreth,  whom  the  Phoenicians  calPd 

Astarte,  queen  of  heaven,  with  crescent  horns ; 

To  whose  bright  image  nightly  by  the  moon 

Sidonian  virgins  paid  their  vows  and  songs, 

In  Sion  also  not  unsung,  where  stood  442 


54  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  JB,  it 

Her  temple  on  the  offensive  mountain,  built 

By  that  uxorious  king,  whose  heart,  though  large, 

Beguiled  by  fair  idolatresses,  fell 

To  idols  foul.     Thammuz  came  next  behind, 

Whose  annual  wound  in  Lebanon  allured 

The  Syrian  damsels  to  lament  his  fate 

In  amorous  ditties  all  a  summer's  day, 

"While  smooth  Adonis  from  his  native  rock 

Ean  purple  to  the  sea,  supposed  with  blood 

Of  Thammuz  yearly  wounded :  the  love-ta.e  4512 

Infected  Sion's  daughters  with  like  heat, 

Whose  wanton  passions  in  the  sacred  porch 

Ezekiel  saw,  when,  by  the  vision  led, 

His  eye  survey'd  the  dark  idolatries 

Of  alienated  Judah.    Next  came  one 

Who  mourn'd  in  earnest,  when  the  captive  ark 

Maim'd  his  brute  image,  head  and  hands  lopp'd  off 

In  his  own  temple,  on  the  grunsel  edge, 

Where  he  fell  flat,  and  shamed  his  worshippers ; 

Dagon  his  name,  sea-monster,  upward  man 

And  downward  fish  :  yet  had  his  temple  high  468 

Rear'd  in  Azotus,  dreaded  through  the  coast 

Of  Palestine,  in  Gath  and  Ascalon, 

And  Accaron  and  Gaza's  frontier  bounds. 

Him  follow'd  Rimmon,  whose  delightful  seat 

Was  fair  Damascus,  on  the  fertile  banks 

Of  Abbana  and  Pharphar,  lucid  streams. 

He  also  'gainst  the  house  of  God  was  bold : 

A  leper  once  he  lost,  and  gain'd  a  king, 

Ahaz,  his  sottish  conqueror,  whom  he  drew 

God's  altar  to  disparage  and  displace 

For  one  of  Syrian  mode,  whereon  to  burn  47-4 

His  odious  offerings,  and  adore  the  gods 

Whom  he  had  vanquish'd.     After  these  appeared 

A  crew,  who,  under  names  of  old  renown, 

Osiris,  Isis,  Orus,  and  their  train, 

AYith  monstrous  shapes  and  sorceries  abused 

Fanatic  Egypt  and  her  priests,  to  seek 

Their  wandering  gods,  disguised  in  brutish  forms 

Rather  than  human.    Nor  did  Israel  'scape 

The  infection,  when  their  borrow'd  gold  composed 

The  calf  in  Oreb ;  and  the  rebel  king 

Doubled  that  sin  in  Bethel  and  in  Dan,  485 


B,  I.]  PARADISE    LOST.  55 

Likening  his  Maker  to  the  grazed  ox, 

Jehovah,  who  in  one  night,  when  he  pass'd 

From  Egypt  marching,  equall'd  with  one  stroke 

Both  her  first-born  and  all  her  bleating  gods. 

Belial  came  last,  than  whom  a  spirit  more  lewd 

Fell  not  from  Heaven,  or  more  gross  to  love. 

Vice  for  itself :  to  him  no  temple  stood, 

Nor  altar  smoked ;  yet  who  more  oft  than  he 

In  temples  and  at  altars,  when  the  priest 

Turns  atheist,  as  did  Eli's  sons,  who  filPd  495 

With  lust  and  violence  the  house  of  God  ? 

In  courts  and  palaces  he  also  reigns, 

And  in  luxurious  cities,  where  the  noise 

Of  riot  ascends  above  their  loftiest  towers, 

And  injury  and  outrage :  and,  when  night 

Darkens  the  streets,  then  wander  forth  the  sons 

Of  Belial,  flown  with  insolence  and  wine. 

Witness  the  streets  of  Sodom,  and  that  night 

In  Gibeah,  when  the  hospitable  door 

Exposed  a  matron,  to  avoid  worse  rape. 

These  were  the  prime  in  order  and  in  might ;  506 

The  rest  were  long  to  tell,  though  far  renown'd ; 

The  Ionian  gods,  of  Javan's  issue  held 

Gods,  yet  confess'd  later  than  Heaven  and  Earth, 

Their  boasted  parents :  Titan,  Heaven's  first-born, 

With  his  enormous  brood,  and  birthright  seized 

By  younger  Saturn ;  he  from  mightier  Jove 

His  own  and  Rhea's  son  like  measure  found ; 

So  Jove  usurping  reign'd :  these  first  in  Crete 

And  Ida  known,  thence  on  the  snowy  top 

Of  cold  Olympus  ruled  the  middle  air, 

Their  highest  heaven;  or  on  the  Delphian  cliff,  517 

Or  in  Dodona,  and  through  all  the  bounds 

Of  Doric  land ;  or  who  with  Saturn  old 

Fled  over  Adria  to  the  Hesperian  fields, 

And  o'er  the  Celtic  roam'd  the  utmost  isles. 

AL  these  and  more  came  flocking ;  but  with  looks 
Downcast  and  damp,  yet  such  wherein  appear'd 
Obscure  some  glimpse  of  joy,  to  have  found  their  chief 
Xot  in  despair,  to  have  found  themselves  not  lost 
In  loss  itself;  which  on  his  countenance  cast 
Like  doubtful  hue :  but  he,  his  wonted  pride 
Soon  recollecting,  with  high  words,  that  bore  528 


56  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  i. 

Semblance  of  worth,  not  substance,  gently  raised 

Their  fainting  courage,  and  dispell'd  their  fears. 

Then  straight  commands  that  at  the  warlike  sound 

Of  trumpets  loud  and  clarions,  he  uprear'd 

His  mighty  standard:  that  proud  honor  claim'd 

Azazel  as  his  right,  a  cherub  tall ; 

"Who  forthwith  from  the  glittering  staff  unfurl'd 

The  imperial  ensign,  which,  full  high  advanced, 

Shone  like  a  meteor,  streaming  to  the  wind, 

"With  gems  and  golden  lustre  rich  emblazed,  53b 

Seraphic  arms  and  trophies ;  all  the  while 

Sonorous  metal  blowing  martial  sounds : 

At  which  the  universal  host  up-sent 

A  shout,  that  tore  H  ell's  concave,  and  beyond 

Frighted  the  reign  of  Chaos  and  old  Night. 

All  in  a  moment  through  the  gloom  were  seen 

Ten  thousand  banners  rise  into  the  air, 

"With  orient  colors  waving :  with  them  rose 

A  forest  huge  of  spears ;  and  thronging  helms 

Appeared,  and  serried  shields  in  thick  array, 

Of  depth  immeasurable  :  anon  they  move  .  549 

In  perfect  phalanx  to  the*  Dorian  mood, 

Of  flutes  and  soft  recorders ;  such  as  raised 

To  height  of  noblest  temper  heroes  old 

Arming  to  battle ;  and,  instead  of  rage, 

Deliberate  valor  breathed,  firm,  and  unmoved 

With  dread  of  death,  to  flight  or  foul  retreat ; 

Nor  wanting  power  to  mitigate  and  'snage, 

"With  solemn  touches,  troubled  thoughts,  and  chase 

Anguish,  and  doubt,  and  fear,  and  sorrow,  and  pain, 

From  mortal  or  immortal  minds.    Thus  they, 

Breathing  united  force,  with  fixed  thought  56C 

Moved  on  in  silence  to  soft  pipes,  that  charmed 

Their  painful  steps  o'er  the  burnt  soil :  and  now, 

Advanced  in  view,  they  stand ;  a  horrid  front 

Of  dreadful  length  and  dazzling  arms,  in  guise 

Of  warriors  old  with  order'd  spear  and  shield, 

Awaiting  what  command  their  mighty  chief 

Had  to  impose.   He  through  the  armed  files 

Darts  his  experienced  eye,  and  soon  traverse 

The  whole  battalion  views ;  their  order  due, 

Their  visages  and  statures  as  of  gods ; 

Their  number  last  he  sums.    And  now  his  heart         571 


B.  I.]  PARADISE    LOST.  57 

Distends  with  pride,  and  hardening,  in  his  strength 
Glories :  for  never  since  created  man 
Met  such  embodied  force  as,  named  with  these, 
Could  merit  more  than  that  small  infantry 
Warr'd  on  hy  cranes ;  though  all  the  giant  brood 
Of  Phlegra  with  the  heroic  race  were  join'd, 
That  fought  at  Thebes  and  Ilium,  on  each  side 
Mix'd  with  auxiliar  gods  ;  and  what  resounds 
In  fable  or  romance  of  Uther's  son, 
Begirt  with  British  and  Armoric  knights ;  581 

And  all  who  since,  baptized  or  infidel, 
Jousted  in  Aspramont  or  Montalban, 
Damasco,  or  Marocco,  or  Trebisond; 
Or  whom  Biserta  sent  from  Afric  shore, 
When  Charlemagne  with  all  his  peerage  fell 
By  Fontarabia.    Thus  far  these  beyond 
Compare  of  mortal  prowess,  yet  observed 
r   Their  dread  commander :  he,  above  the  rest  , 

In  shape  and  gesture  proudly  eminent, 
Stood  like  a  tower ;  his  form  had  not  yet  lost 
All  her  original  brightness,  nor  appear'd  592 

Less  than  archangel  ruin'd,  and  the  excess 
Of  glory  obscured ;  as  when  the  sun,  new  risen, 
Looks  through  the  horizontal  misty  air, 
Shorn  of  his  beams ;  or  from  behind  the  moon, 
In  dim  eclipse,  disastrous  twilight  sheds 
On  half  the  nations,  and  with  fear  of  change 
Perplexes  monarchs.    Darkened  so,  yet  shone 
Above  them  all  the  Archangel :  but  his  face 
Deep  scars  of  thunder  had  intrench'd,  and  care 
Sat  on  his  faded  cheek,  but  under  brows 
Of  dauntless  courage,  and  considerate  pride,  608 

Waiting  revenge :  cruel  his  eye,  but  cast 
Signs  of  remorse  and  passion  to  behold 
The  fellows  of  his  crime,  the  followers  rather, 
(Far  other  once  beheld  in  bliss)  condemn'd 
Forever  now  to  have  their  lot  in  pain, 
Millions  of  spirits  for  his  fault  amerced 
Of  Heaven,  and  from  eternal  splendors  flung 
For  his  revolt,  yet  faithful  how  they  stood, 
Their  glory  withered :  as  when  Heaven's  fire 
Hath  scathed  the  forest  oaks,  or  mountain  pines, 
With  singed  top  their  stately  growth,  though  bare,     614 


58  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  i 

Stands  on  the  blasted  heath.    He  now  prepared 
To  speak ;  whereat  their  doubled  ranks  they  bend 
From  wing  to  wing,  and  half  inclose  him  round 
"With  all  his  peers.     Attention  held  them  mute. 
Thrice  he  assay'd ;  and  thrice,  in  spite  of  scorn, 
Tears,  such  as  angels  weep,  burst  forth :  at  last, 
Words,  interwove  with  sighs,  found  out  their  way. 

"  0  Myriads  of  immortal  Spirits,  0  Powers 
Matchless,  but  with  the  Almighty ;  and  that  strife 
Was  not  inglorious,  though  the  event  was  dire,  624 

As  this  place  testifies,  and  this  dire  change, 
Hateful  to  utter :  but  what  power  of  mind, 
Foreseeing  or  presaging,  from  the  depth 
Of  knowledge  past  or  present,  could  have  fear'd 
How  such  united  force  of  gods,  how  such 
As  stood  like  these,  could  ever  know  repulse  ? 
For  who  can  yet  believe,  though  after  loss, 
That  all  these  puissant  legions,  whose  exile 
Hath  emptied  Heaven,  shall  fail  to  reascend 
Self-raised,  and  repossess  their  native  seat  ? 
For  me,  be  witness  all  the  host  of  Heaven,  635 

If  counsels  different,  or  danger  shunn'd 
By  me,  have  lost  our  hopes.    But  he,  who  reigns 
Monarch  in  Heaven,  till  then  as  one  secure 
Sat  on  his  throne,  upheld  by  old  repute, 
Consent,  or  custom,  and  his  regal  state 
Put  forth  at  full,  but  still  his  strength  conceal'd, 
Which  tempted  our  attempt,  and  wrought  our  fall. 
Henceforth  his  might  we  know,  and  know  our  own, 
So  as  not  either  to  provoke  or  dread 
NQW  war,  provoked ;  our  better  part  remains 
To  work  in  close  design,  by  fraud  or  guile,  646 

What  force  effected  not ;  that  he  no  less 
At  length  from  us  may  find,  who  overcomes 
By  force  hath  overcome  but  half  his  foe. 
Space  may  produce  new  worlds ;  whereof  so  rife 
There  went  a  fame  in  Heaven  that  he  ere  long 
Intended  to  create,  and  therein  plant 
A  generation,  whom  his  choice  regard 
Should  favor  equal  to  the  sons  of  Heaven : 
Thither,  if  but  to  pry,  shall  be  perhaps 
Our  first  eruption,  thither  or  elsewhere ; 
For  this  infernal  pit  shall  never  hold  657 


8.  I.I  PARADISE    LOST.  59 

Celestial  spirits  in  bondage,  nor  the  abyss 
Long  under  darkness  cover.     But  these  thoughts 
Full  counsel  must  mature :  Peace  is  despair'd, 
For  who  can  think  submission?    War,  then,  war 
Open  or  understood,  must  be  resolved." 

He  spake  :  and,  to  confirm  his  words,  out  flew 
Millions  of  flaming  swords,  drawn  from  the  thighs 
Of  mighty  cherubim :  the  sudden  blaze 
Far  round  illumined  Hell.     Highly  they  raged 
Against  the  Highest,  and  fierce  with  grasped  arms      ti(n 
Clash'd  on  their  sounding  shields  the  din  of  war, 
Hurling  defiance  toward  the  vault  of  Heaven. 

There  stood  a  hill  not  far,  whose  grisly  top 
Belch'd  fire  and  rolling  smoke ;  the  rest  entire 
Shone  with  a  glossy  scurf,  undoubted  sign 
That  in  his  womb  was  hid  metallic  ore, 
The  work  of  sulphur.     Thither,  wing'd  with  speed, 
A  numerous  brigade  hastened :  as  when  bands 
Of  pioneers,  with  spade  and  pickaxe  arm'd, 
Forerun  the  royal  camp,  to  trench  a  field, 
Or  cast  a  rampart.    Mammon  led  them  on ;  678 

Mammon,  the  least  erected  spirit  that  fell 
From  Heaven ;  for  e'en  in  Heaven  his  looks  and  thoughts 
Were  always  downward  bent,  admiring  more 
The  riches  of  Heaven's  pavement,  trodden  gold, 
Than  aught  divine  or  holy  else  enjoy 'd 
In  vision  beatific.     By  him  first 
Men  also,  and  by  his  suggestion  taught, 
Kansack'd  the  centre,  and  with  impious  hands 
Rifled  the  bowels  of  their  mother  earth 
For  treasures  better  hid.     Soon  had  his  crew 
Open'd  into  the  hill  a  spacious  wound,  689 

And  digg'd  out  ribs  of  gold.     Let  none  admire 
i     That  riches  grow  in  Hell ;  that  soil  may  best 
\  Deserve  the  precious  bane.     And  here  let  those 
Who  boast  in  mortal  things,  and,  wondering,  tell 
Of  Babel  and  the  works  of  Memphian  kings, 
Learn  how  their  greatest  monuments  of  fame, 
And  strength,  and  art,  are  easily  outdone 
By  spirits  reprobate,  and  in  an  hour 
What  in  an  age  they,  with  incessant  toil, 
And  hands  innumerable,  scarce  perform. 
Nigh  on  the  plain,  in  many  cells  prepared,  700 


60  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  IB  f. 

That  underneath  had  veins  of  liquid  fire 

Sluiced  from  the  lake,  a  second  multitude 

With  wonderous  art  founded  the  massy  ore, 

Severing  each  kind,  and  scumm'd  the  bullion  dross  : 

A.  third  as  soon  had  form'd  within  the  ground 

A  various  mould,  and  from  the  boiling  cells, 

By  strange  conveyance,  fill'd  each  hollow  nook ; 

As  in  an  organ,  from  one  blast  of  wind, 

To  many  a  row  of  pipes  the  sound-board  breathes. 

Anon  out  of  the  earth  a  fabric  huge  710 

Rose  like  an  exhalation,  with  the  sound 

Of  dulcet  symphonies  and  voices  sweet, 

Built  like  a  temple,  where  pilasters  round 

"Were  set,  and  Doric  pillars  overlaid 

With  golden  architrave ;  nor  did  there  wanw 

Cornice  or  frieze,  with  bossy  sculptures  graven : 

The  roof  was  fretted  gold.    Not  Babylon, 

Nor  great  Alcairo,  such  magnificence 

Equall'd  in  all  their  glories,  to  inshrine 

Belus  or  Serapis  their  gods,  or  seat 

Their  kings,  when  Egypt  with  Assyria  strove  721 

In  wealth  and  luxury.     The  ascending  pile 

Stood  fix'd  her  stately  height ;  and  straight  the  doors, 

Opening  their  brazen  folds,  discover  wide 

Within  her  ample  spaces  o'er  the  smooth 

And  level  pavement.     From  the  arched  roof, 

Pendent  by  subtle  magic,  many  a  row 

Of  starry  lamps  and  blazing  cressets,  fed 

With  naphtha  and  asphaltus,  yielded  light 

As  from  a  sky.    The  hasty  multitude, 

Admiring,  enter' d ;  and  the  work  some  praise, 

And  some  the  architect :  his  hand  was  known  732 

In  Heaven  by  many  a  tower'd  structure  high, 

Where  sceptred  angels  held  their  residence, 

And  sat  as  princes,  whom  the  supreme  King 

Exalted  to  such  power,  and  gave  to  rule, 

Each  in  his  hierarchy,  the  orders  bright. 

N~or  was  his  name  unheard  or  unadored 

In  ancient  Greece ;  and  in  Ausonian  land 

Men  calFd  him  Mulciber ;  and  how  he  fell 

From  Heaven  they  fabled,  thrown  by  angry  Jove 

Sheer  o'er  the  crystal  battlements  :  from  morn 

To  noon  he  fell,  from  noon  to  dewy  eve,  743 


.  I.]  PARADISE   LOST.  .  61 

A  summer's  day  ;  and  with  the  setting  sun 

Dropt  from  the  zenith  like  a  falling  star, 

On  Lemnos,  the  ^Egean  isle :  thus  they  relate, 

Erring ;  for  he  with  this  rebellious  rout 

Fell  long  before ;  nor  aught  avail'd  him  now 

To  have  built  in  Heaven  high  towers  ;  nor  did  he  'scape 

By  all  his  engines,  but  was  headlong  sent, 

With  his  industrious  crew,  to  build  in  Hell, 

Meanwhile  the  winged  heralds,  by  command 
Of  sovereign  power,  with  awful  ceremony  758 

And  trumpets'  sound,  throughout  the  host  proclaim 
A  solemn  council  forthwith  to  be  held 
At  Pandemonium,  the  high  capital 
Of  Satan  and  his  peers  :  their  summons  call'd 
From  every  band  and  squared  regiment, 
By  place  or  choice,  the  worthiest ;  they  anon, 
With  hundreds  and  with  thousands,  trooping  came 
Attended :  all  access  was  throng'd  ;  the  gates 
And  porches  wide,  but  chief  the  spacious  hall 
(Though  like  a  cover'd  field,  where  champions  bold 
Wont  ride  in  arm'd,  and  at  the  Soldan's  chair  764 

Defied  the  best  of  Panim  chivalry 
To  mortal  combat,  or  career  with  lance) 
Thick  swarm'd,  both  on  the  ground  and  in  the  air, 
Brush'd  with  the  hiss  of  rustling  wings.     As  bees 
In  spring  time,  when  the  sun  with  Taurus  rides, 
Pour  forth  their  populous  youth  about  the  hive 
In  clusters  ;  they  among  fresh  dews  and  flowers 
Fly  to  and  fro,  or  on  the  smoothed  plank, 
The  suburb  of  their  straw-built  citadel, 
Itfew  rubb'd  with  balm,  expatiate  and  confer 
Their  state  affairs  ;  so  thick  the  airy  crowd  775 

Swarm'd  and  were  straiten'd ;  till,  the  signal  given, 
Behold  a  wonder  !  they,  but  now  who  seem'd 
In  bigness  to  surpass  earth's  giant  sons, 
Now  less  than  smallest  dwarfs,  in  narrow  room 
Throng'd  numberless ;  like  that  pygmean  race 
Beyond  the  Indian  mount ;  or  fairy  elves, 
Whose  midnight  revels,  by  a  forest-side 
Or  fountain,  some  belated  peasant  sees, 
Or  dreams  he  sees,  while  overhead  the  moon 
Sits  arbi tress,  and  nearer  to  the  earth 
Wheels  her  pale  course,  they,  on  their  mirth  and  dance  788 

6 


52  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  I 

Intent,  with  jocund  music  charm  his  ear ; 

At  once  with  joy  and  fear  his  heart  rebounds. 

Thus  incorporeal  spirits  to  smallest  forms 

Reduced  their  shapes  immense,  and  were  at  large, 

Though  without  number,  still  amidst  the  hall 

Of  that  infernal  court.     But  far  within, 

And  in  their  own  dimensions  like  themselves, 

The  great  Seraphic  Lords  and  Cherubim 

In  close  recess  and  secret  conclave  sat, 

A  thousand  Demigods  on  golden  seats, 

Frequent  and  full.    After  short  silence  then, 

And  summons  read,  the  great  consult  began.  708 


PARADISE    LOST. 


BOOK  II. 

THE    ARGUMENT. 

Hie  consultation  begnn,  Satan  debates  whether  another  battle  be  .o  te  hazarded  loi 
the  recovery  of  Heaven ;  some  advise  it,  others  dissuade :  a  third  proposal  is  pre- 
ferred, mentioned  before  by  Satan,  to  search  the  truth  of  that  prophecy  or  tradi- 
tion in  Heaven  concerning  another  world,  and  another  kind  of  creature,  equal  or 
not  much  inferior  to  themselves,  about  this  time  to  be  created :  their  doubt  who 
shall  be  sent  on  this  difficult  search  :  Satan  their  chief  undertakes  alone  the  voy- 
age, is  honored  and  applauded.  The  council  thus  ended,  the  rest  betake  them 
several  ways,  and  to  several  employments,  as  their  inclinations  lead  them,  to  enter- 
tain the  time  till  Satan  return.  He  passes  on  his  journey  to  Hell-gates,  finds  them 
•hut,  and  who  sat  there  to  guard  them,  by  whom  at  length  they  are  opened,  and 
discover  to  him  the  gulf  between  Hell  and  Heaven  :  with  what  difficulty  he  passes 
th-ongh,  directed  by  Chaos,  the  power  of  that  place,  to  the  sight  of  tbi*  new  worid 
which  he  sought. 

HIGH  on  a  throne  of  royal  state,  which  far 

Outshone  the  wealth  of  Ormus  and  of  Ind, 

Or  where  the  gorgeous  East  with  richest  hand 

Showers  on  her  kings  barbaric  pearl  and  gold, 

Satan  exalted  sat,  by  merit  raised 

To  that  bad  eminence ;  and  from  despair 

Thus  high  uplifted  beyond  hope,  aspires 

Beyond  thus  high,  insatiate  to  pursue  S 

Vain  war  with  Heaven ;  and,  by  success  untaught 

His  proud  imaginations  thus  displayed : 

"  Powers  and  Dominions,  Deities  of  Heaven, 
For  since  no  deep  within  her  gulf  can  hold 
Immortal  vigor,  though  oppress'd  and  fall'n, 

/  I  give  not  Heaven  for  lost.     From  this  descent 

^Celestial  virtues,  rising,  will  appear 
More  glorious  and  more  dread  than  from  no  fall, 
And  trust  themselves  to  fear  no  second  fate. 
Me,  though  just  right,  and  the  fix'd  laws  of  Heaven, 
Did  first  create  your  leader,  next  free  choice,  19 


64  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  tL 

With  what  besides,  in  council  or  in  fight, 
Hath  been  achieved  of  merit,  yet  this  loss, 
Thus  far  at  least  recover'd,  hath  much  more 
Establish'd  in  a  safe  unenvied  throne, 
-  Yielded  with  full  consent.     The  happier  state 
In  Heaven,  which  follows  dignity,  might  draw 
Envy  from  each  inferior ;  but  who  here 
Will  envy  whom  the  highest  place  exposes 
Foremost  to  stand  against  the  Thunderer's  aim 
Your  bulwark,  and  condemns  to  greatest  share  29 

Of  endless  pain  ?     Where  there  is  then  no  good 
For  which  to  strive,  no  strife  can  grow  up  there 
From  faction ;  for  none  sure  will  claim  in  Hell 
Precedence;  none,  whose  portion  is  so  small 
Of  present  pain,  that  with  ambitious  mind 
Will  covet  more.     With  this  advantage  then 
To  union,  and  firm  faith,  and  firm  accord, 
More  than  can  be  in  Heaven,  we  now  return 
To  claim  our  just  inheritance  of  old, 
Surer  to  prosper  than  prosperity 

Could  have  assured  us ;  and  by  what  best  way,  40 

Whether  of  open  war  or  covert  guile, 
We  now  debate :  who  can  advise  may  speak." 

He  ceased;  and  next  him  Moloch,  sceptred  .king, 
Stood  up ;  the  strongest  and  the  fiercest  spirit 
That  fought  in  Heaven,  now  fiercer  by  despair. 
His  trust  was  with  the  Eternal  to  be  deem'd 
Equal  in  strength ;  and  rather  than  be  less, 
Cared  not  to  be  at  all.     With  that  care  lost 
Went  all  his  fear :  of  God,  or  Hell,  or  worse, 
He  reck'd  not,  and  these  words  thereafter  spake. 

"  My  sentence  is  for  open  war :  of  wiles,  51 

More  unexpert,  I  boast  not ;  them  let  those 
Contrive  who  need,  or  when  they  need,  not  now  : 
For,  while  they  sit  contriving,  shall  the  rest, 
Millions  that  stand  in  arms,  and,  longing,  wait 
The  signal  to  ascend,  sit  lingering  here 
Heaven's  fugitives,  and  for  their  dwelling-place 
Accept  this  dark  opprobrious  den  of  shame, 
The  prison  of  his  tyranny  who  reigns 
By  our  delay  ?     No,  let  us  rather  choose, 
Arm'd  with  Hell  flames  and  fury,  all  at  once 
OV.r  Heaven's  high  towers  to  force  resistless  way,        62 


B.  II.J  PARADISE    LOST.  f>5 

Turning  our  tortures  into  horrid  arms 
Against  the  torturer ;  when  to  meet  the  noise 
Of  his  almighty  engine  he  shall  hear 
Infernal  thunder,  and  for  lightning  see 
Black  fire  and  horror  shot  with  equal  rage 
Among  his  angels,  and  his  throne  Uself 
Mix'd  with  Tartarean  sulphur,  and  strange  fire. 
His  own  invented  torments.     But  perhaps 
The  way  seems  difficult  and  steep,  to  scale 
"With  upright  wing  against  a  higher  foe.  72 

Let  such  bethink  them,  if  the  sleepy  drench 
Of  that  forgetful  lake  benumb  not  still, 
That  in  our  proper  motion  we  ascend 
Up  to  our  native  seat :  descent  and  fall 
To  us  is  adverse.     Who  but  felt  of  late, 
"When  the  fierce  foe  hung  on  our  broken  rear, 
Insulting,  and  pursued  as  through  the  deep, 
"With  what  compulsion  and  laborious  flight 
"We  sunk  thus  low  ?     The  ascent  is  easy  then ; 
The  event  is  fear'd :  should  we  again  provoke 
Our  stronger,  some  worse  way  his  wrath  may  find       83 
To  our  destruction,  if  there  be  in  Hell 
Fear  to  be  worse  destroy'd :  what  can  be  worse 
Than  to  dwell  here,  driven  out  from  bliss,  condemned 
In  this  abhorred  deep  to  utter  woe  ; 
"Where  pain  of  unextinguishable  fire 
Must  exercise  us  without  hope  of  end, 
The  vassals  of  his  anger,  when  the  scourge 
Inexorably,  and  the  torturing  hour, 
Calls  us  to  penance  ?    More  destroy'd  than  thus, 
We  should  be  quite  abolish'd,  and  expire. 
"What  fear  we  then  ?  what  doubt  we  to  incense  94 

His  utmost  ire  ?  which,  to  the  height  enraged, 
1  Will  either  quite  consume  us,  and  reduce 
To  nothing  this  essential,  (happier  far 
Than  miserable  to  have  eternal  being.) 
Or,  if  our  substance  be  indeed  divine, 
And  cannot  cease  to  be,  we  are  at  worst 
On  this  side  nothing ;  and  by  proof  we  feel 
Our  power  sufficient  to  disturb  his  Heaven, 
And  with  perpetual  inroads  to  alarm. 
Though  inaccessible,  his  fatal  throne : 
Which,  if  not  victory,  is  yet  revenge."  105 


60  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  it 

He  ended,  frowning ;  and  his  look  denounced 

Desperate  revenge,  and  battle  dangerous 

To  less  than  gods.     On  the  other  side,  up  rose 

Belial,  in  act  more  graceful  and  humane ; 

A  fairer  person  lost  not  Heaven ;  he  seem'd 

For  dignity  composed  and  high  exploit : 
,  But  all  was  false  and  hollow ;  though  his  tongue 

Dropt  manna,  and  could  make  the  worse  appear 

The  better  reason,  to  perplex  and  dash 
\  Maturest  counsels ;  for  his  thoughts  were  low ;  115 

To  vice  industrious,  but  to  nobler  deeds 

Timorous  and  slothful;  yet  he  pleased  the  ear, 

And  with  persuasive  accent  thus  began. 
"I  should  be  much  for  open  war,  O  Peers! 

As  not  behind  in  hate,  if  what  was  urged 

Main  reason  to  persuade  immediate  war 

Did  not  dissuade  me  most,  and  seem  to  cast 

Ominous  conjecture  on  the  whole  success ; 

"When  he,  who  most  excels  in  fact  of  arms, 

In  what  he  counsels  and  in  what  excels 

Mistrustful,  grounds  his  courage  on  despair  12fi 

And  utter  dissolution,  as  the  scope 

Of  all  his  aim,  after  some  dire  revenge. 

First,  what  revenge?     The  towers  of  Heaven  are  fill'd 

With  armed  watch,  that  render  all  access 

Impregnable ;  oft  on  the  bordering  deep 

Encamp  their  legions,  or  with  obscure  wing 

Scout  far  and  wide  into  the  realm  of  night, 

Scorning  surprise.     Or,  could  we  break  our  way 

By  force,  and  at  our  heels  all  Hell  should  rise 

With  blackest  insurrection,  to  confound 

Heaven's  purest  light,  yet  our  great  enemy,  137 

All  incorruptible,  would  on  his  throne 

Sit  unpolluted,  and  the  ethereal  mould, 

Incapable  of  stain,  would  soon  expel 

Her  mischief,  and  purge  off  the  baser  fire, 

Victorious.     Thus  repulsed,  our  final  hope 

Is  flat  despair :  we  must  exasperate 

The  almighty  Victor  to  spend  all  his  rage, 

And  that  must  end  us — that  must  be  our  cure, 

To  be  no  more :  sad  cure ;  for  who  would  lose, 
\Though  full  of  pain,  this  intellectual  being ; 

Those  thoughts  that  wander  through  eternity ;  148 


Caught  m  a  fleoy  tempest,  shall  be  Imrl'd 
Zadi  on  las  rock,  transfix:!  the  sport,  ami  prey 
01  -wracking  whiri-winds,  or  forever  fanik 

• 

:LS, 


88  MILTON  S    POETICAL   WORKS.  [B.  II. 

Not  more  almighty  to  resist  our  might 
Than  wise  to  frustrate  all  our  plots  and  wiles. 
Shall  we  then  live  thus  vile,  the  race  of  Heaven 
Thus  trampled,  thus  expelPd,  to  suffer  here 
Chains,  and  these  torments?  better  these  than  worse, 
By  my  advice ;  since  fate  inevitable 
Subdues  us,  and  omnipotent  decree, 
r  The  Victor's  will.    To  suffer,  as  to  do, 
Our  strength  is  equal,  nor  the  law  unjust 
That  so  ordains :  this  was  at  first  resolved,  201 

If  we  were  wise,  against  so  great  a  foe 
Contending,  and  so  doubtful  what  might  fall. 
I  laugh  when  those,  who  at  the  spear  are  bold 
And  venturous,  if  that  fail  them,  shrink  and  fear 
"What  yet  they  know  must  follow,  to  endure 
Exile,  or  ignominy,  or  bonds,  or  pain, 
The  sentence  of  their  Conqueror :  this  is  now 
Our  doom ;  which,  if  we  can  sustain  and  bear, 
Our  supreme  foe  in  time  may  much  remit 
His  anger,  and  perhaps,  thus  far  removed, 
"Not  mind,  us,  not  offending,  satisfied  212 

With  what  is  punish'd ;  whence  these  raging  fires 
Will  slacken,  if  his  breath  stir  not  their  flames. 
Our  purer  essence  then  will  overcome 
Their  noxious  vapor ;  or,  inured,  not  feel ; 
Or,  changed  at  length,  and  to  the  place  conform' <? 
In  temper  and  in  nature,  will  receive 
Familiar  the  fierce  heat ;  and,  void  of  pain, 
This  horror  will  grow  mild,  this  darkness  light ; 
Besides  what  hope  the  never-ending  flight 
Of  future  days  may  bring,  what  chance,  what  ctu.nge 
Worth  waiting,  since  our  present  lot  appears  228 

For  happy,  though  but  ill,  for  ill  not  worst, 
If  we  procure  not  to  ourselves  more  woe." 

Thus  Belial,  with  words  clothed  in  reason's  gaxb. 
Counselled  ignoble  ease,  and  peaceful  sloth, 
Not  peace :  and  after  him  thus  Mammon  spake 

"  Either  to  disenthrone  the  King  of  Heaven 
We  war,  if  war  be  best,  or  to  regain 
Our  own  right,  lost :  him  to  unthrone  we  thep 
May  hope,  when  everlasting  Fate  shall  yield 
To  fickle  Chance,  and  Chaos  judge  the  strife: 
The  former  vain  to  hope,  argues  as  vain  234 


B.  II.]  PARADISE    LOST.  09 

The  latter ;  for  what  place  can  be  for  us 
Within  Heaven's  bound,  unless  Heaven's  Lord  supreme 
We  overpower  ?     Suppose  he  should  relent, 
And  publish  grace  to  all,  on  promise  made 
Of  new  subjection ;  with  what  eyes  could  we 
Stand  in  his  presence  humble,  and  receive 
Strict  laws  imposed,  to  celebrate  his  throne 
With  warbled  hymns,  and  to  his  Godhead  sing 
Forced,  hallelujahs ;  while  he  lordly  sits 
Our  envied  sovereign,  and  his  altar  breathes  244 

Ambrosial  odors  and  ambrosial  flowers, 
Our  servile  offerings  ?     This  must  be  our  task 
In  Heaven,  this  our  delight :  how  wearisome 
Eternity,  so  spent  in  worship  paid 
To  whom  we  hate !     Let  us  not  then  pursue 
By  force  impossible,  by  leave  obtained 
Unacceptable,  though  in  Heaven,  our  state 
Of  splendid  vassalage ;  but  rather  seek 
Our  own  good  from  ourselves,  and  from  our  own 
Live  to  ourselves,  though  in  this  vast  recess, 
.Free,  and  to  none  accountable,  preferring 
•  Hard  liberty  before  the  easy  yoke 
Of  servile  pomp.     Our  greatness  will  appear 
Then  mos,t  conspicuous,  wThen  great  things  of  small. 
Useful  of  hurtful,  prosperous  of  adverse, 
We  can  create,  and  in  what  place  soe'er 
Thrive  under  evil,  and  work  ease  out  of  pain 
Through  labor  and  endurance.     This  deep  world 
Of  darkness  do  we  dread  ?     How  oft  amidst 
Thick  cloud  and  dark  doth  Heaven's  all-ruling  Sire 
Choose  to  reside,  his  glory  unobscured, 
And  with  the  majesty  of  darkness  round  266 

Covers  his  throne ;  from  whence  deep  thunders  roar 
Mustering  their  rage,  and  Heaven  resembles  Hell ! 
As  he  our  darkness,  cannot  we  his  light 
Imitate  when  we  please  ?     This  desert  soil 
Wants  not  her  hidden  lustre,  gems  and  gold, 
Xor  want  we  skill  or  art,  from  whence  to  raise 
Magnificence ;  and  what  can  Heaven  show  more  ? 
Our  torments  also  may,  in  length  of  time, 
Become  our  elements ;  these  piercing  fires 
As  soft  as  now  severe,  our  temper  changed 
Into  their  temper ;  which  must  needs  remove  277 


70  MILTON  S    POETICAL   WORKS.  (B.  II. 

The  sensible  of  pain.    All  things  invite 
To  peaceful  counsels,  and  the  settled  state 
Of  order,  how  in  safety  best  we  may 
Compose  our  present  evils,  with  regard 
Of  what  we  are  and  where,  dismissing  quite 
All  thoughts  of  war.     Ye  have  what  I  advise." 

He  scarce  had  finished,  when  such  murmur  fillM 
The  assembly,  as  when  hollow  rocks  retain 
The  sound  of  blustering  winds,  which  all  night  long 
Had  roused  the  sea,  now  with  hoarse  cadence  lull      287 
Seafaring  men  o'erwatch'd,  whose  bark  by  chance, 
Or  pinnace,  anchors  in  a  craggy  bay 
After  the  tempest :  such  applause  was  heard 
As  Mammon  ended;  and  his  sentence  pleased, 
Advising  peace :  for  such  another  field 
They  dreaded  worse  than  Hell :  so  much  the  fear 
Of  thunder  and  the  sword  of  Michael 
Wrought  still  within  them ;  and  no  less  desire 
To  found  this  nether  empire,  which  might  rise 
By  policy,  and  long  process  of  time, 
In  emulation  opposite  to  Heaven.  298 

Which  when  Beelzebub  perceived,  than  whom, 
Satan  except,  none  higher  sat,  with  grave 
Aspect  he  rose,  and  in  his  rising  seem'd 
A  pillar  of  state ;  deep  on  his  front  engraven, 
Deliberation  sat  and  public  care ; 
And  princely  counsel  in  his  face  yet  shone 
Majestic,  though  in  ruin :  sage  he  stood, 
With  Atlantean  shoulders  fit  to  bear 
The  weight  of  mightiest  monarchies ;  his  look 
Drew  audience  and  attention,  still  as  night 
Or  summer's  noontide  air,  while  thus  he  spake.          309 

u  Thrones  and  Imperial  Powers,  Offspring  of  Heaven, 
Ethereal  Virtues !  or  these  titles  now 
Must  we  renounce,  and,  changing  style,  be  call'd 
Princes  of  Hell  ?  for  so  the  popular  vote 
Inclines,  here  to  continue,  and  build  up  here 
A  growing  empire ;  doubtless ;  while  we  dream, 
And  know  not  that  the  King  of  Heaven  hath  doom'd 
This  place  our  dungeon,  not  our  safe  retreat 
Beyond  his  potent  arm,  to  live  exempt 
From  Heaven's  high  jurisdiction,  in  new  league 
Banded  against  his  throne,  but  to  remain  320 


B.  II.]  PARADISE    LOST.  71 

In  strictest  bondage,  though  thus  far  removed, 
Under  the  inevitable  curb,  reserved 
His  captive  multitude :  for  he,  be  sure, 
In  height  or  depth,  still  first  and  last  will  reign 
Sole  king,  and  of  his  kingdom  lose  no  part 
By  our  revolt ;  but  over  Hell  extend 
His  empire,  and  with  iron  sceptre  rule 
Us  here,  as  with  his  golden  those  in  Heaven. 
What  sit  we  then  projecting  peace  and  war  ? 
War  hath  determined  us,  and  foil'd  with  loss 
Irreparable ;  terms  of  peace  yet  none 
Vouchsafed  or  sought;  for  what  peace  will  be  given 
To  us,  enslaved,  but  custody  severe, 
And  stripes,  and  arbitrary  punishment, 
Inflicted  ?  and  what  peace  can  we  return, 
But  to  our  power  hostility  and  hate, 
Untamed  reluctance,  and  revenge,  though  slow, 
Yet  ever  plotting  how  the  Conqueror  least 
May  reap  his  conquest,  and  may  least  rejoice 
In  doing  what  we  most  in  suffering  feel  ? 
Nor  will  occasion  want,  nor  shall  we  need,  £  41 

"With  dangerous  expedition  to  invade 
Heaven,  whose  high  walls  fear  no  assault  or  siege, 
Or  ambush  from  the  deep.     What  if  we  find 
Some  easier  enterprise  ?     There  is  a  place, 
(If  ancient  and  prophetic  fame  in  Heaven 
Err  not,)  another  world,  the  happy  seat 
*  Of  some  new  race  calTd  Man,  about  this  time 
To  be  created  like  to  us,  though  less 
In  power  and  excellence,  but  favor'd  more 
Of  him  who  rules  above ;  so  was  his  will 
Pronounced  among  the  gods,  and  by  an  oath,  352 

That  shook  Heaven's  whole  circumference,  confirmed. 
Thither  let  us  bend  all  our  thoughts,  to  learn 
What  creatures  there  inhabit,  of  what  mould 
Or  substance,  how  endued,  and  what  the:'r  power, 
And  where  their  weakness,  how  attempted  best, 
By  force  or  subtlety.     Though  Heaven  be  shut, 
And  Heaven's  high  Arbitrator  sit  secure 
In  his  own  strength,  this  place  may  lie  exposed. 
The  utmost  border  of  his  kingdom,  left 
To  their  defence  who  hold  it :  here  perhaps 
Some  advantageous  act  may  be  achieved  363 


'J  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  i?. 

By  sudden  onset,  either  with  Hell  fire 

To  waste  his  whole  creation,  or  possess 

All  as  our  own,  and  drive,  as  we  were  driven,. 

The  puny  habitants  ;  or,  if  not  drive, 

Seduce  them  to  our  party,  that  their  God 

Xay  prove  their  foe,  and  with  repenting  hand 

Abolish  his  own  works.     This  would  surpass 

Common  revenge,  and  interrupt  his  joy 

In  our  confusion,  and  our  joy  upraise 

In  his  disturbance ;  When  his  darling  sons,  373 

Hurl'd  headlong  to  partake  with  us,  shall  curse 

Their  frail  original,  and  faded  bliss, 

Faded  so  soon.     Advise  if  this  be  worth 

Attempting,  or  to  sit  in  darkness  here 

Hatching  vain  empires.1'     Thus  Beelzebub 

Pleaded  his  devilish  counsel,  first  devised 

By  Satan,  and  in  part  proposed :  for  whence, 

But  from  the  author  of  all  ill,  could  spring 

So  deep  a  malice,  to  confound  the  race 

Of  mankind  in  one  root,  and  Earth  with  Hell 

To  mingle  and  involve,  done  all  to  spite  SS4 

The  great  Creator  ?     But  their  spite  still  serves 

His  glory  to  augment.     The  bold  design 

Pleased  highly  those  infernal  States,  and  joy 

Sparkled  in  all  their  eyes ;  with  full  assent 

They  vote  :  whereat  his  speech  he  thus  renews. 

"  Well  have  ye  judged,  well  ended  long  debate, 
Synod  of  gods,  and,  like  to  what  ye  are, 
Great  things  resolved,  which  from  the  lowest  deep 
Will  once  more  lift  us  up,  in  spite  of  fate, 
Nearer  our  ancient  seat ;  perhaps  in  view 
Of  those  bright  confines,  whence  with  neighboring  arms 
And  opportune  excursion  we  may  chance  396 

Ke-enter  Heaven  ;  or  else  in  some  mild  zone 
Dwell,  not  un visited  of  Heaven's  fair  light, 
Secure,  and  at  the  brightening  orient  beam 
Purge  off  this  gloom ;  the  soft  delicious  air, 
To  heal  the  scar  of  these  corrosive  fires, 
Shall  breathe  her  balm.     But,  first,  whom  shall  we  send 
In  search  of  this  new  world  ?  whom  shall  we  find 
Sufficient  ?  who  shall  tempt  with  wandering  feet 
The  dark  unbottom'd  infinite  abyss, 
And  through  the  palpable  obscure  find  out  406 


B.  II.]  PARADISE    LOST.  73 

His  uncouth  way,  or  spread  his  airy  flight, 

Upborne  with  indefatigable  wings, 

Over  the  vast  abrupt,  ere  he  arrive 

The  happy  isle  ?  what  strength,  what  art,  can  then 

Suffice,  or  what  evasion  bear  him  safe 

Through  the  strict  senteries  and  stations  thick 

Of  angels  watching  round  ?     Here  he  had  need 

All  circumspection,  and  we  now  no  less 

Choice  in  our  suffrage ;  for  on  whom  we  send 

The  weight  of  all,  and  our  last  hope,  relies."  .  416 

This  said,  he  sat ;  and  expectation  held 
His  look  suspense,  awaiting  who  appear'd 
To  second,  or  oppose,  or  undertake, 
The  perilous  attempt :  but  all  sat  mute, 
Pondering  the  danger  with  deep  thoughts ;  and  each 
In  others  countenance  read  his  own  dismay, 
Astonished :  none  among  the  choice  and  prime 
Of  those  Heaven-warring  champions  could  be  found 
So  hardy  as  to  proffer  or  accept 
Alone  the  dreadful  voyage ;  till  at  last, 
Satan,  whom  now  trascendent  glory  raised  427 

Above  his  fellows,  with  monarchal  pride 
Conscious  of  highest  worth,  unmoved,  thus  spake. 

"  O  Progeny  of  Heaven,  empyreal  Thrones ! 
With  reason  hath  deep  silence  and  demur 
Seized  us,  though  undismayed :  long  is  the  way, 
And  hard,  that  out  of  Hell  leads  up  to  light ; 
Our  prison  strong ;  this  huge  convex  of  fire, 
Outrageous  to  devour,  immures  us  round 
Ninefold,  and  gates  of  burning  adamant, 
Barr'd  over  us,  prohibit  all  egress. 
These  pass'd,  if  any  pass,  the  void  profound 
Of  unessential  Night  receives  him  next,  438 

Wide  gaping,  and  with  utter  loss  of  being 
Threatens  him,  plunged  in  that  abortive  gulf. 
If  thence  he  'scape  into  whatever  world, 
Or  unknown  region,  what  remains  him  less 
Than  unknown  dangers,  and  as  hard  escape  ? 
But  I  should  ill  become  this  throne,  0  Peers, 
And  this  imperial  sovereignty,  adorn'd 
With  splendor,  arm'd  with  power,  if  aught  proposed 
And  judged  of  public  moment,  in  the  shap«e 
Of  difficulty  or  danger,  could  deter  449 

7 


74  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  IL 

Me  from  attempting.    Wherefore  do  I  assume 

These  royalties,  and  not  refuse  to  reign, 

Refusing  to  accept  as  great  a  share 

Of  hazard  as  of  honor,  due  alike 

To  him  who  reigns,  and  so  much  to  him  due 

Of  hazard  more,  as  he  above  the  rest 

High  honored  sits  ?     Go,  therefore,  mighty  Powers, 

Terror  of  Heaven,  though  fallen ;  intend  at  home, 

While  here  shall  be  our  home,  what  best  may  ease 

The  present  misery,  and  render  Hell  45(J 

More  tolerable ;  if  there  be  cure  or  charm 

To  respite,  or  deceive,  or  slack  the  pain, 

Of  this  ill  mansion  :  intermit  no  watch 

Against  a  wakeful  foe,  while  I  abroad, 

Through  all  the  coasts  of  dark  destruction,  see"k 

Deliverance  for  us  all.     This  enterprise 

None  shall  partake  with  me."    Thus  saying,  rose 

The  monarch,  and  prevented  all  reply ; 

Prudent,  lest,  from  his  resolution  raised, 

Others  among  the  chief  might  offer  now 

(Certain  to  be  refused)  what  erst  they  fear'd  ;  470 

And,  so  refused,  might  in  opinion  stand 

His  rivals,  winning  cheap  the  high  repute 

Which  he  through  hazard  huge  must  earn.    But  they 

Dreaded  not  more  the  adventure  than  his  voice 

Forbidding ;  and  at  once  with  him  they  rose. 

Their  rising  all  at  once  was  as  the  sound 

Of  thunder  heard  remote.     Towards  him  they  bend, 

With  awful  reverence  prone ;  and  as  a  god 

Extol  him  equal  to  the  highest  in  Heaven. 

Nor  fail'd  they  to  express  how  much  they  praised 

That  for  the  general  safety  he  despised 

His  own  :  for  neither  do  the  spirits  damn'd  481 

Lose  all  their  virtue ;  lest  bad  men  should  boast 

Their  specious  deeds  on  earth,  which  glory  excites, 

Or  close  ambition  varnish'd  o'er  with  zeal. 

Thus  they  their  doubtful  consultations  dark 

Ended,  rejoicing  in  their  matchless  chief: 

As  when  from  mountain-tops  the  dusky  clouds 

Ascending,  while  the  north  wind  sleeps,  o'erspread 

Heaven's  cheerful  face,  the  lowering  element 

Scowls  o'er  the  darken'd  landskip  snow  or  shower; 

If  chance  the  radiant  sun  with  farewell  sweet  492 


13.  II.]  PARADISE    LOST.  75 

Extend  his  evening  beam,  the  fields  revive, 

The  birds  their  notes  renew,  and  bleating  herds 

Attest  their  joy,  that  hill  and  valley  rings. 

O  shame  to  men  1  Devil  with  Devil  damn'd 

Firm  concord  holds ;  men  only  disagree 

Of  creatures  rational,  though  under  hope 

Of  heavenly  grace ;  and,  God  proclaiming  peace, 

Yet  live  in  hatred,  enmity,  and  strife 

Among  themselves,  and  levy  cruel  wars, 

Wasting  the  earth,  each  other  to  destroy !  502 

As  if  (which  might  induce  us  to  accord) 

Man  had  not  hellish  foes  enow  besides, 

That  day  and  night  for  his  destruction  wait. 

The  Stygian  council  thus  dissolved,  and  forth 
In  order  came  the  grand  infernal  peers : 
Midst  came  their  mighty  Paramount,  and  seem'd 
Alone  the  antagonist  of  Heaven,  nor  less 
Than  Hell's  dread  emperor,  with  pomp  supreme, 
And  God-like  imitated  state ;  him  round 
A  globe  of  fiery  seraphim  inclosed 

With  bright  emblazonry,  and  horrent  arms.  513 

Then,  of  their  session  ended,  they  bid  cry, 
With  trumpets'  regal  sound,  the  great  result. 
Towards  the  four  winds  four  speedy  cherubim 
Put  to  their  mouths  the  sounding  alchemy, 
By  heralds'  voice  explained ;  the  hollow  abyss 
Heard  far  and  wide,  and  all  the  host  of  Hell 
With  deaf 'ning  shout  returned  them  loud  acclaim. 
Thence  more  at  ease  their  minds,  and  somewhat  raised 
By  false  presumptuous  hope,  the  ranged  powers 
Disband,  and,  wandering,  each  his  several  way 
Pursues,  as  inclination  or  sad  choice  524 

Leads  him,  perplex'd  where  he  may  likeliest  find 
Truce  to  his  restless  thoughts,  and  entertain 
The  irksome  hours  till  his  great  Chief  return. 
Part  on  the  plain,  or  in  the  air  sublime, 
Upon  the  wing,  or  in  swift  race  contend, 
As  at  the  Olympian  games  or  Pythian  fields : 
Part  curb  their  fiery  steeds,  or  shun  the  goal 
With  rapid  wheels,  or  fronted  brigades  form. 
As  when  to  warn  proud  cities,  war  appears 
Waged  in  the  troubled  sky,  and  armies  rush 
To  battle  in  the  clouds,  before  each  van  535 


76  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  FB.  IL 

Piick  forth  the  airy  knights,  and  couch  their  spears 

Till  thickest  legions  close ;  with  feats  of  arms 

From  either  end  of  Heaven  the  welkin  burns. 

Others,  with  vast  Typhoean  rage,  more  fell, 

Rend  up  both  rocks  arid  hills,  and  ride  the  air 

In  whirlwind ;  Hell  scarce  holds  the  wild  uproar. 

As  when  Alcides,  from  (Echalia  crown'd 

With  conquest,  felt  the  envenom'd  robe,  and  tore 

Through  pain  up  by  the  roots  Thessalian  pines, 

And  Lichas  from  the  top  of  (Eta  threw  545 

Into  the  Euboic  sea.     Others,  more  mild, 

Retreated  in  a  silent  valley,  sing 

With  notes  angelical  to  many  a  harp 

Their  own  heroic  deeds  and  hapless  fall 

By  doom  of  battle ;  and  complain  that  fate 

Free  virtue  should  inthrall  to  force  or  chance 

Their  song  was  partial,  but  the  harmony 

(What  could  it  less  when  spirits  immortal  sing!) 

Suspended  Hell,  and  took  with  ravishment 

The  thronging  audience.     In  discourse  more  sweet, 

(For  eloquence  the  soul,  song  charms  the  sense,)         556 

Others  apart  sat  on  a  hill  retired, 

In  thoughts  more  elevate ;  and  reason' d  high 

Of  providence,  foreknowledge,  will,  and  fate, 

Fix'd  fate,  free  will,  foreknowledge  absolute ; 

And  found  no  end,  in  wandering  mazes  lost. 

Of  good  and  evil  much  they  argued  then, 

Of  happiness  and  final  misery, 

Passion  and  apathy,  and  glory  and  shame, 

Vain  wisdom  all,  and  false  philosophy : 

Yet  with  a  pleasing  sorcery  could  charm 

Pain  for  a  while  or  anguish,  and  excite  567 

Fallacious  hope,  or  arm  the  obdurate  breast 

With  stubborn  patience  as  with  triple  steel. 

Another  part  in  squadrons  and  gross  bands, 

On  bold  adventure  to  discover  wide 

That  dismal  world,  if  any  clime  perhaps 

Might  yield  them  easier  habitation,  bend 

Four  ways  their  flying  march,  along  the  banks 

Of  four  infernal  rivers,  that  disgorge 

Into  the  burning  lake  their  baleful  streams; 

Abhorred  Styx,  the  flood  of  deadly  hate ; 

Sad  Acheron  of  sorrow  black  and  deep ; 


B.  II. J  PARADISE    LOST.  77 

x\ 

/    Cocytus,  named  of  lamentation  loud 

Heard  on  the  rueful  stream ;  fierce  Phlegethon, 

"Whose  waves  of  torrent  fire  inflame  with  rage. 

Far  off  from  these  a  slow  and  silent  stream, 

Lethe,  the  river  of  oblivion,  rolls 

Her  watery  labyrinth,  whereof  who  drinks 

Forthwith  his  former  state  and  being  forgets, 

Forgets  both  joy  and  grief,  pleasure  and  pain. 

Beyond  this  flood  a  frozen  continent 

Lies  dark  and  wild,  beat  with  perpetual  storms  588 

Of  whirlwind  and  dire  hail,  which  on  firm  land 

Thaws  not,  but  gathers  heap,  and  ruin  seems 

Of  ancient  pile ;  all  else  deep  snow  and  ice, 

A  gulf  profound  as  that  Serbonian  bog 

Betwixt  Damiata  and  mount  Casius  old, 

Where  armies  whole  have  sunk :  the  parching  air 

Burns  frore,  and  cold  performs  the  effect  of  fire. 

Thither,  by  harpy-footed  furies  haled 

At  certain  revolutions,  all  the  damn'd 

Are  brought ;  and  feel  by  turns  the  bitter  change 

Of  fierce  extremes,  extremes  by  change  more  fierce,    599 

From  beds  of  raging  fire  to  starve  in  ice 

Their  soft  ethereal  warmth,  and  there  to  pine 

Immovable,  infix'd,  and  frozen  round, 

Periods  of  time :  thence  hurried  back  to  fire. 

They  ferry  over  this  Lethean  sound, 

Both  to  and  fro,  their  sorrow  to  augment, 

And  wish  and  struggle,  as  they  pass,  to  reach 

The  tempting  stream,  with  one  small  drop  to  lose 

In  sweet  forgetfulness  all  pain  and  woe, 

All  in  one  moment,  and  so  near  the  brink ; 

But  fate  withstands,  and  to  oppose  the  attempt  610 

Medusa  with  Gorgonian  terror  guards 

The  ford,  and  of  itself  the  water  flies 

All  taste  of  living  wight,  as  once  it  fled 

The  lip  of  Tantalus.    Thus,  roving  on 

In  confused  march  forlorn,  the  adventurous  bands, 

With  shuddering  horror  pale,  and  eyes  aghast, 

View'd  first  their  lamentable  lot,  and  found 

No  rest :  through  many  a  dark  and  dreary 

They  pass'd,  and  many  a  region  dolorous, 

O'er  many  a  frozen,  many  a  fiery  Alp, 

_    Rocks,  caves,  lakes,  fens,  bogs,  dens,  and  shades  of  death, 


78  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  n. 

A  universe  of  death,  which  God  by  curse 

Created  evil,  for  evil  only  good, 

Where  all  life  dies,  death  lives,  and  nature  breeds, 

Perverse,  all  monstrous,  all  prodigious  things, 

Abominable,  inutterable,  and  worse 

Than  fables  yet  have  feign'd,  or  fear  conceived, 

Gorgons,  and  Hydras,  and  Chimeras  dire. 

Meanwhile  the  adversary  of  God  and  man, 
Satan,  with  thoughts  inflamed  of  highest  design, 
Puts  on  swift  wings,  and  towards  the  gates  of  Hell     03 i 
Explores  his  solitary  flight :  sometimes 
He  scours  the  right-hand  coast,  sometimes  the  left ; 
Now  shaves  with  level  wing  the  deep,  then  soars 
Up  to  the  fiery  concave,  towering  high. 
As  when  far  off  at  sea  a  fleet  descried 
Hangs  in  the  clouds,  by  equinoctial  winds 
Close  sailing  from  Bengala,  or  the  isles 
Of  Ternate  and  Tidore,  whence  merchants  bring 
Their  spicy  drugs :  they  on  the  trading  flood 
Through  the  wide  Ethiopian  to  the  Cape 
Ply,  stemming  nightly  toward  the  pole.     So  seem'd    642 
Far  off  the  flying  fiend :  at  last  appear 
Hell  bounds,  high  reaching  to  the  horrid  roof, 
And  thrice  threefold  the  gates ;  three  folds  were  brass, 
Three  iron,  three  of  adamantine  rock  ; 
Impenetrable,  impaled  with  circling  fire, 
Yet  unconsumed.    Before  the  gates  there  sat 
On  either  side  a  formidable  shape ; 
The  one  seem'd  woman  to  the  waist,  and  fair, 
But  ended  foul  in  many  a  scaly  fold 
Voluminous  and  vast,  a  serpent  arm'd 
With  mortal  sting ;  about  her  middle  round  658 

a     A  cry  of  hell-hounds,  never  ceasing,  bark'd, 
With  wide  Cerberian  mouths,  full  loud,  and  rung 
A  hideous  peal :  yet,  when  they  list,  would  creep, 
If  aught  disturbed  their  noise,  into  her  womb, 
And  kennel  there ;  yet  there  still  bark'd  and  howl'd, 
Within  unseen.     Far  less  abhorr'd  than  these 
Yex'd  Scylla,  bathing  in  the  sea  that  parts 
Calabria  from  the  hoarse  Trinacrian  shore : 
Nor  uglier  follow  the  night-hag,  when,  call'd 
In  secret,  riding  through  the  air,  she  comes, 
Lured  with  the  smell  of  infant  blood,  to  dance  664 


U.  II. ]  PARADISE    LOST.  IS 

With  Lapland  witches,  while  the  laboring  moon 

Eclipses  at  their  charms.     The  other  shape, 

If  shape  it  might  be  call'd  that  shape  had  none 

Distinguishable  in  member,  joint,  or  limb ; 

Or  substance  might  be  calPd  that  shadow  seem'd ; 

For  each  seem'd  either ;  black  it  stood  as  Night, 

Fierce  as  ten  Furies,  terrible  as  Hell, 

And  shook  a  dreadful  dart :  what  seem'd  his  head 

The  likeness  of  a  kingly  crown  had  on. 

Satan  was  now  at  hand ;  and  from  his  seat  07-1 

The  monster,  moving  onward,  came  as  fast 

With  horrid  strides  ;  Hell  trembled  as  he  strode. 

The  undaunted  fiend  what  this  might  be  admired  ; 

Admired,  not  fear'd ;  God  and  his  Son  except, 

Created  thing  naught  valued  he,  nor  slv.mn'd ; 

And  with  disdainful  look  thus  first  began  : 

"  Whence  and  what  art  thou,  execrable  shape, 
That  dar'st,  though  grim  and  terrible,  advance 
Thy  miscreated  front  athwart  my  way 
To  yonder  gates  ?  through  them  I  mean  to  pass, 
That  be  assured,  without  leave  ask'd  of  thee :  685 

Retire,  or  taste  thy  folly ;  and  learn  by  proof, 
Hell-born,  not  to  contend  with  spirits  of  Heaven." 

To  whom  the  goblin,  full  of  wrath,  replied : 
"  Art  thou  that  traitor  angel,  art  thou  he, 
Who  first  broke  peace  in  Heaven  and  faith,  till  then 
Unbroken,  and  in  proud  rebellious  arms 
Drew  after  him  the  third  part  of  Heaven's  sons, 
Conjured  against  the  Highest,  for  which  both  thou 
And  they,  outcast  from  God,  are  here  condemned 
To  waste  eternal  days  in  woe  and  pain  ? 
And  reckon'st  thou  thyself  with  spirits  of  Heaven,     696 
Hell-doom'd,  and  breath'st  defiance  here  and  scorn 
Where  I  reign  king,  and,  to  enrage  thee  more, 
Thy  king  and  lord  ?     Back  to  thy  punishment, 
False  fugitive,  and  to  thy  speed  add  wings, 
Lest  with  a  whip  of  scorpions  I  pursue 
Thy  lingering,  or  with  one  stroke  of  this  dart 
Strange  horror  seize  thee,  and  pangs  unfelt  before." 

So  spake  the  grisly  terror,  and  in  shape, 
So  speaking  and  so  threatening,  grew  tenfold 
More  dreadful  and  deform :  on  the  other  side, 
Incensed  with  indignation,  Satan  stood  707 


80  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  TB.  n 

Unterrified,  and  like  a  comet  burn'd, 

That  fires  the  length  of  Ophiuchus  huge 

In  the  arctic  sky,  and  from  his  horrid  hair 

Shakes  pestilence  and  war.     Each  at  the  head 

Levell'd  his  deadly  aim ;  their  fatal  hands 

No  second  stroke  intend ;  and  such  a  frown 

Each  cast  at  the  other,  as  when  two  black  clouds, 

With  Heaven's  artillery  fraught,  come  rattling  on 

Over  the  Caspian,  then  stand  front  to  front 

Hovering  a  space,  till  winds  the  signal  blow  717 

To  join  their  dark  encounter  in  mid-air : 

So  frown'd  the  mighty  combatants,  that  Hell 

Grew  darker  at  their  frown,  so  match'd  they  stood ; 

For  never  but  once  more  was  either  like 

To  meet  so  great  a  foe.    And  now  great  deeds 

Had  been  achieved,  whereof  all  Hell  had  rung, 

Had  not  the  snaky  sorceress  that  sat 

Fast  by  Hell-gate,  and  kept  the  fatal  key, 

Risen,  and  with  hideous  outcry  rush'd  between. 

"  O  father,  what  intends  thy  hand,"  she  cried, 
"  Against  thy  only  son  ?     What  fury,  0  son,  728 

Possesses  thee  to  bend  that  mortal  dart 
Against  thy  father's  head?  and  know'st  for  whom? 
For  him  who  sits  above  and  laughs  the  while 
At  thee  ordain' d  his  drudge,  to  execute 
Whatever  his  wrath,  which  he  calls  justice,  bids ; 
His  wrath,  which  one  day  will  destroy  ye  both." 

She  spake,  and  at  her  words  the  hellish  pest 
Forbore :  then  these  to  her  Satan  return'd : 

"  So  strange  thy  outcry,  and  thy  words  so  strange 
Thou  interposest,  that  my  sudden  hand, 
Prevented,  spares  to  tell  thee  yet  by  deeds  739 

What  it  intends,  till  first  I  know  of  thee 
What  thing  thou  art,  thus  double-form'd ;  and  why, 
In  this  infernal  vale  first  met,  thou  call'st 
Me  father,  and  that  phantasm  call'st  my  son : 
I  know  thee  not,  nor  ever  saw  till  now 
Sight  more  detestable  than  him  and  thee." 

To  whom  thus  the  portress  of  Hell-gate  replied : 
"  Hast  thou  forgot  me  then,  and  do  I  seem 
Now  in  thine  eyes  so  foul  ?  once  deem'd  so  fair 
In  Heaven,  when  at  the  assembly,  and  in  sight 
Of  all  the  seraphim  with  thee  combined  750 


8.  II.]  PARADISE    LOST.  81 

In  bold  conspiracy  against  Heaven's  King, 

All  on  a  sudden  miserable  pain 

Surprised  thee,  dim  thine  eyes  and  dizzy  swum 

In  darkness,  while  thy  head  flames  thick  and  fast 

Threw  forth,  till,  on  the  left  side  opening  wide, 

Likest  to  thee  in  shape  and  countenance  bright, 

Then  shining  heavenly  fair,  a  goddess  arm'd 

Out  of  thy  head  I  sprung :  amazement  seized 

All  the  host  of  Heaven;  back  they  recoil'd,  afraid 

At  first,  and  call'd  me  SIN,  and  for  a  sign  760 

Portentous  held  me ;  but,  familiar  grown, 

I  pleased,  and  with  attractive  graces  won 

The  most  averse ;  thee  chiefly,  who  full  oft, 

Thyself  in  me  thy  perfect  image  viewing, 

Becam'st  enamor'd,  and  such  joy  thou  took'st 

With  me  in  secret,  that  my  womb  conceived 

A  growing  burden.     Meanwhile  war  arose, 

And  fields  were  fought  in  Heaven ;  wherein  remained 

(For  what  could  else  ?)  to  our  almighty  foe 

Clear  victory,  to  our  part  loss  and  rout 

Through  all  the  empyrean :  down  they  fell,  771 

Driven  headlong  from  the  pitch  of  Heaven,  down 

Into  this  deep,  and  in  the  general  fall 

I  also ;  at  which  time  this  powerful  key 

Into  my  hand  was  given,  with  charge  to  keep 

These  gates  forever  shut,  which  none  can  pass 

Without  my  opening.     Pensive  here  I  sat 

Alone,  but  long  I  sat  not,  till  my  womb, 

Pregnant  by  thee,  and  now  excessive  grown, 

Prodigious  motion  felt  and  rueful  throes. 

At  last  this  odious  offspring  whom  thou  seest, 

Thine  own  begotten,  breaking  violent  way,  782 

Tore  through  my  entrails,  that,  with  fear  and  pain 

Distorted,  all  my  nether  shape  thus  grew 

Transformed :  but  he  my  inbred  enemy 

Forth  issued,  brandishing  his  fatal  dart, 

Made  to  destroy :  I  fled,  and  cried  out,  DEATH  ! 

Hell  trembled  at  the  hideous  name,  and  sigl^d 

From  all  her  caves,  and  back  resounded,  Death. 

I  fled;  but  he  pursued,  (though  more,  it  seems, 

Inflamed  with  lust  than  rage,)  and,  swifter  far, 

Me  overtook,  his  mother,  all  dismay'd, 

And  in  embraces  forcible  and  foul,  793 


82  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [u.  n 

Engendering  with  me,  of  that  rape  begot 

These  yelling  monsters,  that  with  ceaseless  cry 

Surround  me,  as  thou  saw'st,  hourly  conceived 

And  hourly  horn,  with  sorrow  infinite 

To  me ;  for  when  they  list,  into  the  womb 

That  bred  them  they  return,  and  howl  and  gnaw 

My  bowels,  their  repast;  then,  bursting  forth 

Afresh,  with  conscious  terrors  vex  me  round, 

That  rest  or  intermission  none  I  find. 

Before  mine  eyes  in  opposition  sits  803 

Grim  Death,  my  son  and  foe,  who  sets  them  on, 

And  me  his  parent  would  full  soon  devour 

For  want  of  other  prey,  but  that  he  knows 

His  end  with  mine  involved,  and  knows  that  I 

Should  prove  a  bitter  morsel,  and  his  bane, 

Whenever  that  shall  be ;  so  fate  pronounced. 

But  thou,  0  father,  I  forewarn  thee,  shun 

His  deadly  arrow ;  neither  vainly  hope 

To  be  invulnerable  in  those  bright  arms, 

Though  temper'd  heavenly,  for  that  mortal  dint, 

Save  he  who  reigns  above,  none  can  resist."  814 

She  finish'd,  and  the  subtle  fiend  his  lore 
Soon  learn'd,  now  milder,  and  thus  answer'd  smooth : 
"Dear  daughter,  since  thou  claim'st  me  for  thy  sire, 
And  my  fair  son  here  show'st  me,  the  dear  pledge 
Of  dalliance  had  with  thee  in  Heaven,  and  joys 
Then  sweet,  now  sad  to  mention,  through  dire  change 
Befall'n  us  unforeseen,  unthought  of,  know 
I  come  no  enemy,  but  to  set  free 
From  out  this  dark  and  dismal  house  of  pain 
Both  him  and  thee,  and  all  the  heavenly  host 
Of  spirits,  that,  in  our  just  pretences  arm'd, 
Fell  with  us  from  on  high :  from  them  I  go 
This  uncouth  errand  sole,  and  one  for  all 
Myself  expose,  with  lonely  steps  to  tread 
The  unfounded  deep,  and  through  the  void  immense 
To  search  with  wandering  quest  a  place  foretold 
Should  be,  and,  by  concurring  signs,  ere  now 
Created  vast  and  round,  a  place  of  bliss 
In  the  purlieus  of  Heaven,  and  therein  placed 
A  race  of  upstart  creatures,  to  supply 
Perhaps  our  vacant  room,  though  more  removed, 
Lest  He&ven,  surcharged  with  potent  multitude,         83(5 


B    II.]  PARADISE    LOST.  83 

Might  hap  to  move  new  broils :  Be  this  or  aught 
Than  this  more  secret  now  design'd,  I  haste 
To  know,  and,  this  once  known,  shall  soon  return, 
And  bring  ye  to  the  place  where  thou  and  Death 
Shall  dwell  at  ease,  and  up  and  down  unseen 
Wing  silently  the  buxom  air,  embalm'd 
With  odors ;  there  ye  shall  be  fed  and  fill'd 
Immeasurably — all  things  shall  be  your  prey," 

He  ceased,  for  both  seem'd  highly  pleased,  and  Death 
Grinn'd  horrible  a  ghastly  smile,  to  hear  846 

His  famine  should  be  fill'd,  and  blest  his  maw 
Destined  to  that  good  hour :  no  less  rejoiced 
His  mother  bad,  and  thus  bespake  her  sire  : 

"  The  key  of  this  infernal  pit  by  due, 
And  by  command  of  Heaven's  all-powerful  Kirg, 
I  keep,  by  him  forbidden  to  unlock 
These  adamantine  gates ;  against  all  force 
Death  ready  stands  to  interpose  his  dart, 
Fearless  to  be  o'ermatch'd  by  living  might. 
But  what  owe  I  to  his  commands  above 
Who  hates  me,  and  hath  hither  thrust  me  down          857 
Into  this  gloom  of  Tartarus  profound, 
To  sit  in  hateful  office  here  confined, 
Inhabitant  of  Heaven  and  heavenly  born, 
Here  in  perpetual  agony  and  pain, 
With  terrors  and  with  clamors  compass'd  round 
Of  mine  own  brood,  that  on  my  bowels  feed  ? 
Thou  art  my  father,  thou  my  author,  thou 
My  being  gavest  me  ;  whom  should  I  obey 
But  thee,  whom  follow?  thou  wilt  bring  me  soon 
To  that  new  world  of  light  and  bliss,  among 
The  gods  who  live  at  ease,  where  I  shall  reign  868 

At  thy  right  hand  voluptuous,  as  beseems 
Thy  daughter  and  thy  darling,  without  end." 

Thus  saying,  from  her  side  the  fatal  key, 
Sad  instrument  of  all  our  woe,  she  took ; 
And,  towards  the  gate  rolling  her  bestial  train, 
Forthwith  the  huge  portcullis  high  up  drew, 
Which,  but  herself,  not  all  the  Stygian  powers 
Could  once  have  moved;  then  in  the  keyhole  turns 
The  intricate  wards,  and  every  bolt  and  bar 
Of  massy  iron  or  solid  rock  with  ease 
Unfastens  :  on  a  sudden  open  fly,  879 


84  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [u.  11 

With  impetuous  recoil  and  jarring  sound, 
The  infernal  doors,  and  on  their  hinges  grate 
\  Harsh  thunder,  that  the  lowest  bottom  shook 
Of  Erebus.     She  open'd,  but  to  shut 
Excell'd  her  power ;  the  gates  wide  open  stood, 
That  with  extended  wings  a  banner'd  host, 
Under  spread  ensigns  marching,  might  pass  through, 
"With  horse  and  chariots  rank'd  in  loose  array ; 
So  wide  they  stood,  and  like  a  furnace  mouth 
Cast  forth  redounding  smoke  and  ruddy  flame.  889 

Before  their  eyes  in  sudden  view  appear 
The  secrets  of  the  hoary  deep,  a  dark 
Illimitable  ocean,  without  bound, 

Without  dimension ;  where  length,  breadth,  and  height, 
And  time,  and  place,  are  lost ;  where  eldest  Night 
And  Chaos,  ancestors  of  nature,  hold 
Eternal  anarchy,  amidst  the  noise 
Of  endless  wars,  and  by  confusion  stand. 
For  hot,  cold,  moist,  and  dry,  four  champions  iier  ;e, 
Strive  here  for  mastery,  and  to  battle  bring 
Their  embryon  atoms ;  they  around  the  flag  900 

Of  each  his  faction,  in  their  several  clans, 
Light-arm'd  or  heavy,  sharp,  smooth,  swift,  or  slow, 
Swarm  populous,  unnumbered  as  the  sands 
Of  Barca  or  Cyrene's  torrid  soil, 
Levied  to  side  with  warring  winds,  and  poise 
Their  lighter  wings.    To  whom  these  most  adhere, 
He  rules  a  moment ;  Chaos  umpire  sits, 
And  by  decision  more  embroils  the  fray 
By  which  he  reigns ;  next  him  high  arbiter 
Chance  governs  all.     Into  this  wild  abyss, 
The  womb  of  nature,  and  perhaps  her  grave,  911 

Of  neither  sea,  nor  shore,  nor  air,  nor  fire, 
But  all  these  in  their  pregnant  causes  mix'd 
Confusedly,  and  which  thus  must  ever  flght, 
Unless  the  Almighty  Maker  them  ordain 
His  dark  materials  to  create  more  worlds ; 
Into  this  wild  abyss  the  wary  fiend 
Stood  on  the  brink  of  Hell  and  look'd  a  while, 
Pondering  his  voyage;  for  no  narrow  frith 
He  had  to  cross.     Nor  was  his  ear  less  peal'd 
With  noises  loud  and  ruinous  (to  compare 
Great  things  with  small)  than  when  Bellona  storms,  922 


a.  II.]  PARADISE    LOST.  85 

With  all  her  battering  engines  bent  to  raze 

Some  capital  city ;  or  less  than  if  his  frame 

Of  Heaven  were  falling,  and  these  elements 

In  mutiny  had  from  her  axle  torn 

The  steadfast  earth.    At  last  his  sail-broad  vans 

He  spreads  for  flight,  and  in  the  surging  smoke 

Uplifted  spurns  the  ground ;  thence  many  a  league. 

As  in  a  cloudy  chair,  ascending,  rides 

Audacious ;  but,  that  seat  soon  failing,  meets 

A  vast  vacuity :  all  unawares,  932 

Fluttering  his  pennons  vain,  plumb  down  he  drops 

Ten  thousand  fathom  deep,  and  to  this  hour 

Down  had  been  falling,  had  not  by  ill  chance 

The  strong  rebuff  of  some  tumultuous  cloud, 

Instinct  with  fire  and  nitre,  hurried  him 

As  many  miles  aloft :  that  fury  stay'd, 

Quench'd  in  a  boggy  Syrtis,  neither  sea 

Nor  good  dry  land,  nigh  founder'd,  on  he  fares, 

Treading  the  crude  consistence,  half  on  foot, 

Half  flying;  behooves  him  now  both  oar  and  sail. 

As  when  a  gryphon  through  the  wilderness  943 

*  With  winged  course,  o'er  hill  or  moory  dale, 
'  Pursues  the  Arimaspian,  who  by  stealth 

Had  from  his  wakeful  custody  purloin'd 
The  guarded  gold :  so  eagerly  the  fiend 

-  O'er  bog,  or  steep,  through  strait,  rough,  dense,  or  rare, 
With  head,  hands,  wings,  or  feet,  pursues  his  way, 
And  swims,  or  sinks,  or  wades,  or  creeps,  or  flies  : 

At  length  a  universal  hubbub  wild 
Of  stunning  sounds  and  voices  all  confused,* 
Borne  through  the  hollow  dark,  assaults  his  ear 
With  loudest  vehemence :  thither  he  plies,  954 

Undaunted  to  meet  there  whatever  power 
Or  spirit  of  the  nethermost  abyss 
Might  in  that  noise  reside,  of  whom  to  ask 
Which  way  the  nearest  coast  of  darkness  lies 
Bordering  on  light:  when  straight  behold  the  throne 
Of  Chaos,  and  his  dark  pavilion  spread 
Wide  on  the  wasteful  deep ;  with  him  enthroned, 
Sat  sable-vested  Night,  eldest  of  things, 
The  consort  of  his  reign ;  and  by  them  stood 
Orcus  and  Ades,  and  the  dreaded  name 
Of  Demogorgon ;  Humor  next,  and  Chance,  965 

8 


86  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  fu.  n 

And  Tumult,  and  Confusion,  all  embroil'd, 
And  Discord,  with  a  thousand  various  mouths. 

To  whom  Satan,  turning  boldly,  thus  :  "  Ye  Powers 
And  Spirits  of  this  nethermost  abyss, 
Chaos  and  ancient  Night,  I  come  no  spy, 
With  purpose  to  explore  or  to  disturb 
The  secrets  of  your  realm,  but  by  constraint 
Wandering  this  darksome  desert,  as  my  way 
Lies  through  your  spacious  empire  up  to  light, 
Alone,  and  without  guide,  half  lost,  I  seek  975 

What  readiest  path  leads  where  your  gloomy  bounds  ' 
Confine  with  Heaven ;  or,  if  some  other  place, 
From  your  dominion  won,  the  ethereal  King 
Possesses  lately,  thither  to  arrive 
I  travel  this  profound ;  direct  my  course  ; 
Directed,  no  mean  recompense  it  brings 
To  your  behoof,  if  I  that  region  lost, 
All  usurpation  thence  expell'd,  reduce 
To  her  original  darkness  and  your  sway, 
(Which  is  my  present  journey,)  and  once  more 
Erect  the  standard  there  of  ancient  Night ;  986 

Yours  be  the  advantage  all,  mine  the  revenge." 

Thus  Satan ;  and  him  thus  the  Anarch  old, 
With  faltering  speech  and  visage  incomposed, 
Answer' d  :  "  I  know  thee,  stranger,  who  thou  art, 
,  That  mighty  leading  angel,  who  of  late 
Made  head  against  Heaven's  King,  though  overthrown. 
I  saw  and  heard,  for  such  a  numerous  host 
Fled  not  in  silence  through  the  frighted  deep 
With  ruin  upon  ruin,  rout  onrrout, 
Confusion  worse  confounded^;  and  Heaven-gates 
Pour'd  out  by  milions  her  victorious  bands,  997 

Pursuing.     I  upon  my  frontiers  here 
Keep  residence :  if  all  I  can  will  serve 
That  little  which  is  left  so  to  defend, 
Encroach' d  on  still  through  your  intestine  broils, 
Weakening  the  sceptre  of  old  Night :  first  Hell 
Your  dungeon  stretching  far  and  wide  beneath ; 
Now  lately  Heaven  and  Earth,  another  world, 
Hung  o'er  my  realm,  link'd  in  a  golden  chain 
To  that  side  Heaven  from  whence  your  legions  fell : 
If  that  way  be  your  walk,  you  have  not  far  • 
So  much  the  nearer  danger;  go,  and  speed ;  1008 


B.  II.]  PARADISE    LOST.  87 

Havoc,  and  spoil,  and  ruin,  are  my  gain." 

He  ceased ;  and  Satan  stay'd  not  to  reply, 
But,  glad  that  now  Ms  sea  should  find  a  shore, 
With  fresh  alacrity  and  force  renew'd, 
Springs  upward,  like  a  pyramid  of  fire, 
Into  the  wild  expanse,  and  through  the  stock 
Of  fighting  elements,  on  all  sides  round 
Environed,  wins  his  way ;  harder  beset, 
And  more  endangered,  than  when  Argo  pass'd 
Through  Bosphorus  hetwixt  the  justling  rocks ;         1018 
Or  when  Ulysses  on  the  larboard  shunn'd 
Charybdis,  and  by  the  other  whirlpool  steer'd 
So  he  with  difficulty  and  labor  hard 
Moved  on,  with  difficulty  and  labor  he : 
But,  he  once  past,  soon  after,  when  man  fell, 
(Strange  alteration !)  Sin  and  Death  amain, 
Following  his  track,  (such  was  the  will  of  Heaven,) 
Paved  after  him  a  broad  and  beaten  way 
Over  the  dark  abyss,  whose  boiling  gulf 
Tamely  endured  a  bridge  of  wondrous  length, 
From  Hell  continued,  reaching  the  utmost  orb          1029 
Of  this  frail  world ;  by  which  the  spirits  perverse 
"With  easy  intercourse  pass  to  and  fro 
To  tempt  or  punish  mprtals,  except  whom 
•God  and  good  angels  guard  by  special  grace. 
But  now  at  last  the  sacred  influence 
Of  light  appears,  and  from  the  walls  of  Heaven 
Shoots  far  into  the  bosom  of  dim  Night 
A  glimmering  dawn :  here  Nature  first  begins 
Her  farthest  verge,  and  Chaos  to  retire, 
As  from  our  outmost  works  a  broken  foe, 
With  tumult  less  and  with  less  hostile  din ;  1040 

That  Satan  with  less  toil,  and  now  with  ease, 
Wafts  on  the  calmer  wave  by  dubious  light, 
And,  like  a  weather-beaten  vessel,  holds 
Gladly  the  port,  though  shrouds  and  tackle  torn ; 
Or  in  the  emptier  waste,  resembling  air, 
Weighs  his  spread  wings,  at  leisure  to  behold 
Far  off  the  empyreal  Heaven,  extended  wide 
In  circuit,  undetermined  square  or  round, 
With  opal  towers  and  battlements  adorn'd 
Of  living  sapphire,  once  his  native  seat ; 
And  fast  by  hanging  in  a  golden  chain  1051 


88  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  IB.  n, 

Tliis  pendent  world,  in  bigness  as  a  star 
Of  smallest  magnitude  close  by  the  moon. 
Thither,  full  fraught  with  mischievous  revenge. 
Accursed,  and  in  a  cursed  hour,  he  hies.  1055 


PARADISE    LOST 


BOOK  III. 

THE   ARGUMENT 

God,  sitting  on  his  throne,  sees  Satan  flying  towards  this  world,  tnen  .ewly  ere 
ated ;  shows  him  to  the  Son,  who  sat  at  his  right  hand ;  foretells  the  success  ol 
Satan  in  perverting  mankind  ;  clears  his  own  justice  and  wisdom  from  all  impu 
tation,  having  created  Man  free,  and  able  enough  to  have  withstood  his  temper  : 
yet  declares  his  purpose  of  grace  towards  him,  in  regard  he  fell  not  of  his  own 
malice,  as  did  Satan,  but  by  him  seduced.  The  Son  of  God  renders  praises  to  hi.s 
Father  for  the  manifestation  of  his  gracious  purpose  towards  Man  ;  but  God  again 
declares,  that  grace  cannot  be  extended  towards  Man  without  the  satisfaction  of 
Divine  justice :  Man  hath  offended  the  majesty  of  God  by  aspiring  to  Godhead, 
and  therefore,  with  all  his  progeny  devoted  to  death,  must  die,  unless  some  one 
can  be  found  sufficient  to  answer  for  his  offence,  and  undergo  his  punishment.  The 
Son  of  God  freely  offers  himself  a  ransom  for  Man.  The  Father  accepts  him ; 
ordains  his  incarnation  ;  pronounces  his  exaltation  above  all  names  in  Heaven  an. 
Earth  ;  commands  all  the  angels  to  adore  him  :  thej  obey,  and  hymning  to  their 
harps  in  full  choir,  celebrate  the  Father  and  the  Son.  Meanwhile  Satan  alights 
upon  the  bare  convex  of  this  world's  outermost  orb ;  where,  wandering,  he  first 
finds  a  place,  since  called  "The  Limbo  of  Vanity  ;"  what  persons  and  things  fly 
up  thither ;  thence  comes  to  the  gate  of  Heaven,  described  ascending  by  stairs, 
and  the  waters  above  the  firmament  that  flow  about  it.  His  passage  thence  to  the 
orb  of  the  sun :  he  finds  there  Uriel  the  regent  of  that  orb,  but  first  changes  him- 
self into  the  shape  of  a  meaner  angel,  and,  pretending  a  zealous  desire  to  behold 
the  new  creation,  and  Man  whom  God  had  placed  here,  inquires  of  him  the  place 
of  his  habitation,  and  is  directed  ;  alights  first  on  mount  Niphates. 

HAIL,  holy  Light,  offspring  of  Heaven  first-born ! 

Or  of  the  Eternal  coeternal  beam 

May  I  express  thee  unblarned?  since  God  is  light, 

And  never  but  in  unapproached  light 

Dwelt  from  eternity,  dwelt  then  in  thee, 

Bright  effluence  of  bright  essence  increate. 

Or  hear'st  thou  rather,  pure  ethereal  stream, 

Whose  fountain  who  shall  tell?  before  the  sun, 

Before  the  Heavens  thou  wert,  and  at  the  voice 

Of  God,  as  with  a  mantle  didst  invest 

The  rising  world  of  waters  dark  and  deep, 

"Won  from  the  void  and  formless  infinite.  12 


90  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [u.  m, 

Tliee  I  revisit  now  with  bolder  wing, 

Escaped  the  Stygian  pool,  though  long  detained 

In  that  obscure  sojourn,  while  in  my  flight 

Through  utter  and  through  middle  darkness  borne, 

With  other  notes  than  to  the  Orphean  lyre, 

I  sung  of  Chaos  and  eternal  Night, 

Taught  by  the  heavenly  Muse  to  venture  down 

The  dark  descent,  and  up  to  reascend, 

Though  hard  and  rare :  thee  I  revisit  safe, 

And  feel  thy  sovereign  vital  lamp ;  but  thou 

Revisitest  not  these  eyes,  that  roll  in  vain 

To  find  thy  piercing  ray,  and  find  no  dawn ; 

So  thick  a  drop  serene  hath  quench'd  their  orbs, 

Or  dim  suffusion  veil'd.     Yet  not  the  more 

Cease  I  to  wander,  where  the  Muses  haunt 

Clear  spring,  or  shady  grove,  or  sunny  hill, 

Smit  with  the  love  of  sacred  song ;  but  chief 

Thee,  Sion,  and  the  flowery  brooks  beneath, 

That  wash  thy  hallow'd  feet,  and  warbling  flow, 

Nightly  I  visit :  nor  sometimes  forget 

Those  other  two  equalPd  with  me  in  fate,  83 

So  were  I  equall'd  with  them  in  renown, 

Blind  Thamyris  and  blind  Mseonides, 

And  Tiresias  and  Phineus,  prophets  old : 

Then  feed  on  thoughts,  that  voluntary  move 

Harmonious  numbers ;  as  the  wakeful  bird 

Sings  darkling,  and  in  shadiest  covert  hid 

Tunes  her  nocturnal  note.    Thus  with  the  year 

Seasons  return,  but  not  to  me  returns  - 

Day,  or  the  sweet  approach  of  even  or  morn, 

Or  sight  of  vernal  bloom,  or  summer's  rose, 

Or  flocks,  or  herds,  or  human  face  divine ;  44 

But  cloud  instead,  and  ever-during  dark 

Surrounds  me,  from  the  cheerful  ways  of  men 

Cut  off,  and  for  the  book  of  knowledge  fair 

Presented  with  a  universal  blank 

Of  nature's  works,  to  me  expunged  and  rased, 

And  wisdom  at  one  entrance  quite  shut  out. 

So  much  the  rather  thou,  celestial  Light, 

Shine  inward,  and  the  mind  through  all  her  powers 

Irradiate ;  there  plant  eyes,  all  mist  from  thence 

Purge  and  disperse,  that  I  may  see  and  tell 

Of  things  invisible  to  mortal  sight.  55 


8    III.]  PARADISE    LOST.  91 

Now  had  the  almighty  Father  from  above, 
From  the  pure  empyrean  where  he  sits 
High  throned  above  all  height,  bent  down  his  eye, 
His  own  works  and  their  works  at  once  to  view. 
About  him  all  the  Sanctities  of  Heaven 
Stood  thick  as  stars,  and  from  his  sight  received 
Beatitude  past  utterance ;  on  his  right 
The  radiant  image  of  his  glory  sat, 
His  only  Son :  on  earth  he  first  beheld 
Our  two  first  parents,  yet  the  only  two  65 

Of  mankind,  in  the  happy  garden  placed, 
Heaping  immortal  fruits  of  joy  and  love, 
Uninterrupted  joy,  unrivall'd  love, 
In  blissful  solitude  ;  he  then  survey'd 
Hell  and  the  gulf  between,  and  Satan  there 
Coasting  the  wall  of  Heaven  on  this  side  Night, 
In  the  dun  air  sublime,  and  ready  now 
To  stoop,  with  wearied  wings  and  willing  feet, 
On  the  bare  outside  of  this  world,  that  seem'd 
Firm  land  embosom'd,  without  firmament, 
Uncertain  which,  in  ocean  or  in  air.  76 

Him  God  beholding  from  his  prospect  high, 
Wherein  past,  present,  future,  he  beholds, 
Thus  to  his  only  Son  foreseeing  spake  : 

"  Only-begotten  Son,  seest  thou  what  rage 
Transports  our  adversary,  whom  no  bounds 
Prescribed,  no  bars  of  Hell,  nor  all  the  chains 
Heap'd  on  him  there,  nor  yet  the  main  abyss, 
Wide  interrupt,  can  hold  ?  so  bent  he  seems 
On  desperate  revenge,  that  shall  redound 
Upon  his  own  rebellious  head.    And  now, 
Through  all  restraint  broke  loose,  he  wings  his  way     87 
Not  far  off  Heaven,  in  the  precincts  of  light, 
Directly  toward  the  new-created  world, 
And  man  there  placed,  with  purpose  to  assay 
If  him  by  force  he  can  destroy,  or  worse, 
By  some  false  guile  pervert ;  and  shall  pervert, 
For  man  will  hearken  to  his  glozing  lies, 
And  easily  transgress  the  sole  command, 
Sole  pledge  of  his  obedience ;  so  will  fall 
He  and  his  faithless  progeny.     Whose  fault  ? 
Whose  but  his  own  ?     Ingrate,  he  had  of  rne 
All  he  could  have  ;  I  made  him  just  and  right,  98 


92  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  in 

Sufficient  to  have  stood,  though  free  to  fall. 

Such  I  created  all  the  ethereal  powers 

And  spirits,  both  them  who  stood  and  them  who  fail'd ; 

Freely  they  stood  who  stood,  and  fell  who  fell. 

"Not  free,  what  proof  could  they  have  given  sincere 

Of  true  allegiance,  constant  faith  or  love, 

Where  only  what  they  needs  must  do  appeared, 

Not  what  they  would  ?  what  praise  could  they  receive  ? 

What  pleasure  I  from  such  obedience  paid, 

When  will  and  reason  (reason  also  is  choice)  108 

Useless  and  vain,  of  freedom  both  despoil'd, 

Made  passive  both,  had  served  necessity, 

Not  me  ?     They  therefore  as  to  right  belonged, 

So  were  created,  nor  can  justly  accuse 

Their  Maker,  or  their  making,  or  their  fate, 

As  if  predestination  overruled 

Their  will,  disposed  by  absolute  decree 

Or  high  foreknowledge ;  they  themselves  decreed 

Their  own  revolt,  not  I :  if  I  foreknew, 

Foreknowledge  had  no  influence  on  their  fault, 

Which  had  no  less  proved  certain  unforeknown.         119 

So  without  least  impulse  or  shadow  of  fate, 

Or  aught  by  me  immutably  foreseen, 

They  trespass,  authors  to  themselves  in  all 

Both  what  they  judge  and  what  they  choose  ;  for  so 

I  form'd  them  free,  and  free  they  must  remain, 

Till  they  inthrall  themselves ;  I  else  must  change 

Their  nature,  and  revoke  the  high  decree 

Unchangeable,  eternal,  which  ordain'd 

Their  freedom ;  they  themselves  ordain'd  their  fall. 

The  first  sort  by  their  own  suggestion  fell, 

Self-tempted,  self-depraved:  man  falls,  deceived         130 

By  the  other  first ;  man  therefore  shall  find  grace, 

The  other  none.     In  mercy  and  justice  both, 

Through  Heaven  and  earth,  so  shall  my  glory  excel, 

But  mercy  first  and  last  shall  brightest  shine." 

Thus  while  God  spake,  ambrosial  fragrance  filFd 
All  Heaven,  and  in  the  blessed  spirits  elect 
Sense  of  new  joy  ineffable  diffused: 
Beyond  compare  the  Son  of  God  was  seen 
Most  glorious ;  in  him  all  his  Father  shone 
Substantially  expressed ;  and  in  his  face 
Divine  compassion  visibly  appeared,  141 


0.  III.]  PARADISE    LOST.  93 

Love  without  end,  and  without  measure  grace, 
Which  uttering  thus,  he  to  his  Father  spake: 

"  O  Father,  gracious  was  that  word  which  closed 
Thy  sovereign  sentence,  that  man  should  find  grace ; 
For  which  both  Heaven  and  earth  shall  high  extol 
Thy  praises,  with  the  innumerable  sound 
Of  hymns  and  sacred  songs,  wherewith  thy  throne 
Encompassed  shall  resound  thee  ever  blest : 
For  should  man  finally  be  lost,  should  man, 
Thy  creature  late  so  loved,  thy  youngest  son,  151 

Fall  circumvented  thus  by  fraud,  though  join'd 
With  his  own  folly  ?  that  be  from  thee  far, 
That  far  be  from  thee,  Father,  who  art  judge 
Of  all  things  made,  and  judgest  only  right. 
Or  shall  the  adversary  thus  obtain 
His  end,  and  frustrate  thine  ?  shall  he  fulfil 
His  malice,  and  thy  goodness  bring  to  naught ; 
Or  proud  return,  though  to  his  heavier. doom, 
Yet  with  revenge  accomplish'd,  and  to  Hell 
Draw  after  him  the  whole  race  of  mankind, 
By  him  corrupted?  or  wilt  thou  thyself  162 

Abolish  thy  creation,  and  unmake, 
For  him,  what  for  thy  glory  thou  hast  made  ? 
So  should  thy  goodness  and  thy  greatness  both 
Be  questioned  and  blasphemed  without  defence." 

To  whom  the  great  Creator  thus  replied : 
"  0  Son,  in  whom  my  soul  hath  chief  delight, 
Son  of  my  bosom,  Son  who  art  alone 
My  word,  my  wisdom,  and  effectual  might, 
All  hast  thou  spoken  as  my  thoughts  are,  all 
As  my  eternal  purpose  hath  decreed : 
Man  shall  not  quite  be  lost,  but  saved  who  will,          173 
Yet  not  of  will  in  him,  but  grace  in  me 
Freely  vouchsafed;  once  more  I  will  renew 
His  lapsed  powers,  though  forfeit  and  inthrall'd 
By  sin  to  foul  exorbitant  desires ; 
Upheld  by  me,  yet  once  more  he  shall  stand 
On  even  ground  against  his  mortal  foe — * 
By  me  upheld,  that  he  may  know  how  frail 
His  falTn  condition  is,  and  to  me  owe 
All  his  deliverance,  and  to  none  but  me. 

T  Some  I  have  chosen  of  peculiar  grace 

I  Elect  above  the  rest ;  so  is  my  will :  184 


94  MILTON^S    POETICAL    WORKS.  [B.  Ill 

The  rest  shall  hear  me  call,  and  oft  bo  warned 
Their  sinful  state,  and  to  appease  betimes 
The  incensed  Deity,  while  offer'd  grace 
Invites ;  for  I  will  clear  their  senses  dark, 
What  may  suffice,  and  soften  stony  hearts 
To  pray,  repent,  and  bring  obedience  due. 
To  prayer,  repentance,  and  obedience  due, 
Though  but  endeavor'd  with  sincere  intent, 
Mine  ear  shall  not  be  slow,  mine  eye  not  shut; 
And  I  will  place  within  them  as  a  guide  194 

My  umpire  conscience,  whom  if  they  will  hear, 
Light  after  light  well  used  they  shall  attain, 
And  to  the  end  persisting,  safe  arrive. 
This  my  long  sufferance  and  my  day  of  grace 
They  who  neglect  and  scorn  shall  never  taste ; 
But  hard  be  hardened,  blind  be  blinded  more, 
That  they  may  stumble  on,  and  deeper  fall ; 
And  none  but  such  from  mercy  I  exclude. 
But  yet  all  is  not  done ;  man  disobeying, 
Disloyal  breaks  his  fealty,  and  <iins 
Against  the  high  supremacy  of  Heaven,  205 

Affecting  Godhead,  and  so  losing  all, 
To  expiate  his  treason  hath  naught  left, 
But  to  destruction,  sacred  and  devote, 
He  with  his  whole  posterity  must  die. 
•  Die  he  or  justice  must ;  unless  for  him 
Some  other  able,  and  as  willing,  pay 
The  rigid  satisfaction,  death  for  death. 
Say,  heavenly  powers !  where  shall  we  find  such  love 
Which  of  ye  will  be  mortal  to  redeem 
Man's  mortal  crime,  the  just  the  unjust  to  save? 
Dwells  in  all  Heaven  charity  so  dear  ?"  216 

He  ask'd,  but  all  the  heavenly  quire  stood  mute, 
And  silence  was  in  Heaven :  on  man's  behalf 
Patron  or  intercessor  none  appeared  ; 
Much  less  that  durst  upon  his  own  head  draw 
The  deadly  forfeiture,  and  ransom  set. 
And  now  without  redemption  all  mankind 
Must  have  been  lost,  adjudged  to  Death  and  Hell 
By  doom  severe,  had  not  the  Son  of  God, 
Tn  whom  the  fulness  dwells  of  love  divine, 
His  dearest  mediation  thus  renaw'cl  • 

"Father,  thy  word  is  past;  man  shall  find  grace,  227 


B.  XII.]  PARADISE    LOST.  95 

And  shall  grace  not  find  means,  that  finds  her  way, 
The  speediest  of  thy  winged  messengers, 
To  visit  all  thy  creatures,  and  to  all 
Comes  unprevented,  unimplored,  unsought  ? 
Happy  for  man,  so  coming;  he  her  aid 
Can  never  seek,  once  dead  in  sins  and  lost ; 
Atonement  for  himself  or  offering  meet, 
Indebted  and  undone,  hath  none  to  bring. 
Behold  me  then  ;  me  for  him  life  for  life 
I  offer ;  on  me  let  thine  anger  fall ;  237 

Account  me  man ;  I  for  his  sake  will  leave 
Thy  bosom,  and  this  glory  next  to  thee 
Freely  put  off,  and  for  him  lastly  die 
Well  pleased :  on  me  let  Death  wreak  all  his  rage ; 
Under  his  gloomy  power  I  shall  not  long 
Lie  vanquish'd ;  thou  hast  given  me  to  possess 
Life  in  myself  forever ;  by  thee  I  live, 
Though  now  to  Death  I  yield,  and  am  his  due, 
All  that  of  me  can  die ;  yet  that  debt  paid, 
Thou  wilt  not  leave  me  in  the  loathsome  grave 
His  prey,  nor  suffer  my  unspotted  soul  248 

Forever  with  corruption  there  to  dwell ; 
But  I  shall  rise  victorious,  and  subdue 
My  vanquisher,  spoil'd  of  his  vaunted  spoil ; 
Death  his  death's  wound  shall  then  receive,  and  stoop 
Inglorio'is,  of  his  mortal  sting  disarmed. 
I  through  the  ample  air  in  triumph  high 
Shall  lead  Hell  captive  maugre  Hell,  and  show 
The  powers  of  darkness  bound.     Thou  at  the  sight 
Pleased,  out  of  Heaven  shalt  look  down  and  smile, 
While  by  thee  raised  I  ruin  all  my  foes, 
Death  last,  and  with  his  carcass  glut  the  grave:          259 
Then  with  the  multitude  of  my  redeern'd 
Shall  enter  Heaven,  long  absent,  and  return, 
Father,  to  see  thy  face,  wherein  no  cloud 
Of  anger  shall  remain,  but  peace  assured 
And  reconcilement ;  wrath  shall  be  no  more 
Thenceforth,  but  in  thy  presence  joy  entire." 
His  words  here  ended,  but  his  meek  aspect 
Silent  yet  spake,  and  breathed  immortal  love 
To  mortal  men,  above  which  only  shone 
Filial  obedience :  as  a  sacrifice, 
Glad  to  be  offer d,  he  attends  the  will  270 


96  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  in 

Of  his  great  Father.     Admiration  seized 

All  Heaven  what  this  might  mean,  and  whither  tend, 

Wondering;  but  soon  the  Almighty  thus  replied  : 

"  O  thou,  in  Heaven  and  earth  the  only  peace 
Found  out  fcr  mankind  under  wrath !  0  thou, 
My  sole  complacence !  well  thou  know'st  how  dear 
To  me  are  all  my  works,  nor  man  the  least, 
Though  last  created;  that  for  him  I  spare 
Thee  from  my  bosom  and  right  hand,  to  save, 
By  losing  thee  a  while,  the  whole  race  lost.  28C 

Thou,  therefore,  whom  thou  only  canst  redeem, 
Their  nature  also  to  thy  nature  join, 
And  be  thyself  man  among  men  on  earth, 
Made  flesh,  when  time  shall  be,  of  virgin  seed, 
By  wondrous  birth  :  be  thou,  in  Adam's  room, 
The  head  of  all  mankind,  though  Adam's  son. 
As  in  him  perish  all  men,  so  in  thee, 
As  from  a  second  root,  shall  be  restored 
As  many  as  are  restored,  without  thee  none. 
His  crime  makes  guilty  all  his  sons :  thy  merit 
Imputed  shall  absolve  them  who  renounce  291 

Their  own  both  righteous  and  unrighteous  deeds, 
And  live  in  thee  transplanted,  and  from  thee 
Eeceive  new  life.     So  man,  as  is  most  just, 
Shall  satisfy  for  man,  be  judged  and  die, 
And  dying  rise,  and,  rising  with  him,  raise 
His  brethren,  ransom'd  with  his  own  dear  life. 
So  heavenly  love  shall  outdo  hellish  hate, 
Giving  to  death,  and  dying  to  redeem, 
So  dearly  to  redeem  what  hellish  hate 
So  easily  destroyed,  and  still  destroys, 
In  those  who,  when  they  may,  accept  not  grace.         802 
"  Nor  shalt  thou,  by  descending  to  assume 
-    Man's  nature,  lessen  or  degrade  thine  own. 
Because  thou  hast,  though  throned  in  highest  bliss 
Equal  to  God,  and  equally  enjoying 
Godlike  fruition,  quitted  all  to  save 
A  world  from  utter  loss,  and  hast  been  found 
By  merit  more  than  birthright  Son  of  God, 
Found  worthiest  to  be  so  by  being  good, 
Far  more  than  great  or  high ;  because  in  thee 
Love  hath  abounded  more  than  glory  abounds  • 
Therefore  thy  humiliation  shall  exalt  313 


R.   tll.J  PARADISE   LOST.  97 

With  thee  thy  manhood  also  to  this  throne. 

Here  shalt  thou  sit  incarnate,  here  shalt  reign 

Both  God  and  Man,  Son  both  of  God  and  Man, 

Anointed  universal  king ;  all  power 

I  give  thee ;  reign  forever,  and  assume 

Thy  merits  :  under  thee,  as  head  supreme, 

Thrones,  princedoms,  powers,  dominions,  I  reduce; 

All  knees  to  thee  shall  how,  of  them  that  bide 

In  Heaven,  or  earth,  or  under  earth  in  Hell. 

When  thou,  attended  gloriously  from  Heaven,  323 

Shalt  in  the  sky  appear,  and  from  thee  send 

The  summoning  archangels  to  proclaim 

Thy  dread  tribunal,  forthwith  from  all  winds 

The  living,  and  forthwith  the  cited  dead 

Of  all  past  ages,  to  the  general  doom 

Shall  hasten,  such  a  peal  shall  rouse  their  sleep : 

Then,  all  thy  saints  assembled,  thou  shalt  judge 

Bad  men  and  angels ;  they  arraigned  shall  sink 

Beneath  thy  sentence;  Hell,  her  numbers  full, 

Thenceforth  shall  be  forever  shut.     Meanwhile 

The  world  shall  burn,  and  from  her  ashes  spring        334 

"N"ew  Heaven  and  earth,  wherein  the  just  shall  dwell, 

And,  after  all  their  tribulations  long,  • 

See  golden  days,  fruitful  of  golden  deeds, 

With  joy  and  love  triumphing,  and  fair  truth. 

Then  thou  thy  regal  sceptre  shalt  lay  by, 

For  regal  sceptre  there  no  more  shall  need, 

God  shall  be  all  in  all.    But  all  ye  gods, 

Adore  him,  who  to  compass  all  this  dies ; 

Adore  the  Son,  and  honor  him  as  me!" 

No  sooner  had  the  Almighty  ceased,  but  all 
The  multitude  of  angels,  with  a  shout  345 

Loud  as  from  numbers  without  number,  sweet 
As  from  blest  voices,  uttering  joy,  Heaven  rung 
With  jubilee,  and  loud  Hosannas  fill'd 
The  eternal  regions :  lowly  reverent 
Towards  either  throne  they  bow,  and  to  the  ground 
With  solemn  adoration  down  they  cast 
Their  crowns  inwove  with  amarant  and  gold ; 
Immortal  amarant,  a  flower  which  once 
in  Paradise,  fast  by  the  tree  of  life, 
Began  to  bloom ;  but  soon  for  man's  offence 
To  Heaven  removed  where  first  it  grew,  there  grows,  356 

9 


98  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  in 

And  flowers  aloft,  shading  the  fount  of  life, 

And  where  the  river  of  bliss  through  midst  of  Heaven 

Rolls  o'er  Elysian  flowers  her  amber  stream : 

With  these  that  never  fade  the  spirits  elect 

Bind  their  resplendent  locks  inwreathed  with  beams  ; 

Xow  in  loose  garlands  thick  thrown  off,  the  bright 

Pavement,  that  like  a  sea  of  jasper  shone, 

Impurpled  with  celestial  roses  smiled. 

Then  crown'd  again,  their  golden  harps  they  took, 

Harps  ever  tuned,  that,  glittering  by  their  side,          866 

Like  quivers  hung,  and  with  preamble  sweet 

Of  charming  symphony  they  introduce 

Their  sacred  song,  and  waken  raptures  high ; 

!N~o  voice  exempt,  no  voice  but  well  could  join 

Melodious  part,  such  concord  is  in  Heaven. 

"  Thee,  Father,"  first  they  sung,  "  Omnipotent, 
Immutable,  Immortal,  Infinite, 
Eternal  King ;  thee,  Author  of  all  being, 
Fountain  of  light,  thyself  invisible. 
Amidst  the  glorious  brightness  where  thou  sitt'st 
Throned  inaccessible,  but  when  thou  shadest  377 

The  full  blaze  of  thy  beams,  and  through  a  cloud, 
Drawn  round  about  thee  like  a  radiant  shrine, 
Dark  with  excessive  bright  thy  skirts  appear, 
Yet  dazzle  Heaven,  that  brightest  seraphim 
Approach  not,  but  with  both  wings  veil  their  eyes." 
u  Thee,"  next  they  sang,  "  of  all  creation  first, 
Begotten  Son,  Divine  Similitude, 
In  whose  conspicuous  countenance,  without  cloud 
Made  visible,  the  almighty  Father  shines, 
Whom  else  no  creature  can  behold  ;  on  thee 
Impressed  the  effulgence  of  his  glory  abides,  388 

Transfused  on  thee  his  ample  Spirit  rests. 
He  Heaven  of  Heavens,  and  all  the  powers  therein, 
By  thee  created,  and  by  thee  threw  down 
The  aspiring  dominations  :  thou  that  day 
Thy  Father's  dreadful  thunder  didst  not  spare, 
Xor  stop  thy  flaming  chariot- wheels,  that  shook 
Heaven's  everlasting  frame,  while  o'er  the  necks 
Thou  drovest  of  warring  angels  disarray'd. 
Back  from  pursuit  thy  powers  with  loud  acclaim 
Thee  only  extoll'd,  Son  of  thy  Father's  might, 
To  execute  fierce  vengeance  on  his  foes.  399 


B.  III.]  PARADISE    LOST.  9b 

Not  so  on  man ;  him,  through  their  malice  falPn, 

Father  of  mercy  and  grace,  thou  didst  not  doom 

So  strictly,  hut  much  more  to  pity  incline : 

]S"o  sooner  did  thy  dear  and  only  Son 

Perceive  thee  purposed  not  to  doom  frail  man 

So  strictly,  hut  much  more  to  pity  inclined, 

He,  to  appease  thy  wrath,  and  end  the  strife 

Of  mercy  and  justice  in  thy  face  discern'd, 

Regardless  of  the  "bliss  wherein  he  sat 

Second  to  thee,  ofier'd  himself  to  die  40^ 

For  man's  offence.     0  unexampled  love, 

Love  nowhere  to  he  found  less  than  Divine  ! 

Hail,  Son  of  God,  Saviour  of  men,  thy  nanie 

Shall  be  the  copious  matter  of  my  song 

Henceforth,  and  never  shall  my  harp  thy  praise 

Forget,  nor  from  thy  Father's  praise  disjoin!" 

Thus  they  in  Heaven,  ahove  the  starry  sphere, 
Their  happy  hours  in  joy  and  hymning  spent. 
Meanwhile  upon  the  firm  opacous  globe 
Of  this  round  world,  whose  first  convex  divides 
The  luminous  inferior  orbs  inclosed  420 

From  Chaos  and  the  inroad  of  Darkness  old, 
Satan  alighted  walks :  a  globe  far  off 
It  seem'd,  now  seems  a  boundless  continent, 
Dark,  waste,  and  wild,  under  the  frown  of  Night 
Starless  exposed,  and  ever-threatening  storms 
Of  Chaos  blustering  round,  inclement  sky ; 
Save  on  that  side  which  from  the  wall  of  Heaven, 
Though  distant  far,  some  small  reflection  gains 
Of  glimmering  air,  less  vex'd  with  tempest  loud : 
Here  walk'd  the  fiend  at  large  in  spacious  field. 
As  when  a  vulture,  on  Imaus  bred,  431 

Whose  snowy  ridge  the  roving  Tartar  bounds, 
Dislodging  from  a  region  scarce  of  prey, 
To  gorge  the  flesh  of  lambs  or  yeanling  kids 
On  hills  where  flocks  are  fed,  flies  toward  the  springs 
Of  Ganges  or  Hydaspes,  Indian  streams ; 
But  in  his  way  lights  on  the  barren  plains 
Of  Sericana,  where  Chineses  drive 
With  sails  and  wind  their  cany  wagons  light : 
So,  on  this  windy  sea  of  land,  the  fiend 
Walk'd  up  and  down  alone,  bent  on  his  prey  • 
Alone,  for  other  creature  in  this  place,  442 


100  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  J3.  ill. 

Living  or  lifeless,  to  be  found  was  none ; 

None  yet ;  but  store  hereafter  from  the  earth 

Up  hither  like  aerial  vapors  flew 

Of  all  things  transitory  and  vain,  when  sin 

With  vanity  had  fill'd  the  works  of  men ; 

Both  all  things  vain,  and  all  who  in  vain  things 

Built  their  fond  hopes  of  glory  or  lasting  fame, 

Or  happiness  in  this  or  the  other  life ; 

All  who  have  their  reward  on  earth,  the  fruits 

Of  painful  superstition  and  blind  zeal,  452 

Naught  seeking  but  the  praise  of  men,  here  find 

Fit  retribution,  empty  as  their  deeds  ; 

All  the  unaccomplish'd  works  of  Nature's  hand, 

Abortive,  monstrous,  or  unkindly  mix'd, 

Dissolved  on  earth,  fleet  hither,  and  in  vain, 

Till  final  dissolution,  wander  here, 

Not  in  the  neighboring  moon,  as  some  have  dream'd ; 

Those  argent  fields  more  likely  habitants, 

Translated  saints,  or  middle  spirits,  hold, 

Betwixt  the  angelical  and  human  kind. 

Hither,  of  ill-join'd  sons  and  daughters  born,  463 

First  from  the  ancient  world  those  giants  came 

With  many  a  vain  exploit,  though  then  renown'd  : 

The  builders  next  of  Babel  on  the  plain 

Of  Sennaar,  and  still  with  vain  design 

New  Babels,  had  they  wherewithal,  would  build : 

Others  came  single ;  he  who,  to  be  deem'd 

A  god,  leap'd  fondly  into  ^Etna  flames, 

Empedocles ;  and  he  who,  to  enjoy 

Plato's  Elysium,  leap'd  into  the  sea, 

Cleombrotus ;  and  many  more  too  long, 

Embryos  and  idiots,  eremites  and  friars,  474 

White,  black,  and  gray,  with  all  their  trumpery. 

Here  pilgrims  roam,  that  stray'd  so  far  to  seek 

In  Golgotha  him  dead,  who  lives  in  Heaven ; 

And  they  who,  to  be  sure  of  Paradise, 

Dying  put  on  the  weeds  of  Dominic, 

Or  in  Franciscan  think  to  pass  disguised ; 

They  pass  the  planets  seven,  and  pass  the  fix'd, 

And  that  crystalline  sphere  whose  balance  weighs 

The  trepidation  talk'd,  and  that  first  moved : 

And  now  Saint  Peter  at  Heaven's  wicket  seems 

To  wait  them  with  his  keys,  and  now  at  foot  485 


B.  III.]  PARADISE^  LX3&T.  1Q1 

Of  Heaven's  ascent  they  lift  their  feet,  when  lo  ! 

A  violent  cross  wind  from  either  coast 

Blows  them  transverse  ten  thousand  leagues  awry 

Into  the  devious  air ;  then  might  ye  see 

Cowls,  hoods,  and  hahits,  with  their  wearers,  tost 

And  flutter'd  into  rags ;  then  relics,  beads, 

Indulgences,  dispenses,  pardons,  bulls, 

The  pport  of  winds  :  all  these,  upwhiiTd  aloft, 

Fly  o'er  the  backside  of  the  world  far  oif 

Into  a  Limbo  large  and  broad,  since  call'd  49£ 

The  Paradise  of  Fools,  to  few  unknown 

Long  after,  now  unpeopled,  and  untrod. 

All  this  dark  globe  the  fiend  found  as  he  pass'd, 

And  long  he  wander'd,  till  at  last  a  gleam 

Of  dawning  light  turn'd  thitherward  in  haste 

His  travell' d  steps :  far  distant  he  descries, 

Ascending  by  degrees  magnificent 

Up  to  the  wall  of  Heaven,  a  structure  high, 

At  top  whereof,  but  far  more  rich,  appeared 

The  work  as  of  a  kingly  palace  gate, 

With  frontispiece  of  diamond  and  gold  506 

Embellish'd ;  thick  with  sparkling  orient  gems 

The  portal  shone,  inimitable  on  earth 

By  model,  or  by  shading  pencil  drawn. 

The  stairs  were  such  as  whereon  Jacob  saw 

Angels  ascending  and  descending,  bands 

Of  guardians  bright,  when  he  from  Esau  fled 

To  Padan-Aram,  in  the  field  of  Luz, 

Dreaming  by  night  under  the  open  sky, 

And  waking  cried,  "  This  is  the  gate  of  Heaven." 

Each  stair  mysteriously  was  meant,  nor  stood 

There  always,  but  drawn  up  to  Heaven  sometimes     517 

Viewless ;  and  underneath  a  bright  sea  flow'd 

Of  jasper,  or  of  liquid  pearl,  whereon 

Who  after  came  from  earth,  sailing  arrived, 

Wafted  by  angels,  or  flew  o'er  the  lake 

Rapt  in  a  chariot  drawn  by  fiery  steeds. 

The  stairs  were  then  let  down,  whether  to  dare 

The  fiend  by  easy  ascent,  or  aggravate 

His  sad  exclusion  from  the  doors  of  bliss : 

Direct  against  which  open'd  from  beneath, 

Just  o'er  the  blissful  seat  of  Paradise, 

A  passage  down  to  the  earth,  a  passage  wide,  529 


MM  .TON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  in. 

\V  id'er  by  far  than  that  of  after-times 

Over  mount  Sion,  and,  though  that  were  large, 

Over  the  Promised  Land  to  God  so  dear, 

By  which,  to  visit  oft  those  happy  tribes, 

On  high  behests  his  angels  to  and  fro 

Pass'd  frequent,  and  his  eye  with  choice  regard 

From  Paneas,  the  fount  of  Jordan's  flood, 

To  Beersaba,  where  the  Holy  Land 

Borders  on  Egypt  and  the  Arabian  shore  ; 

So  wide  the  opening  seem'd,  where  bounds  were  set 

To  darkness,  such  as  bound  the  ocean- wave.  53  S 

Satan  from  hence,  now  on  the  lower  stair 

That  scaled  by  steps  of  gold  to  Heaven-gate, 

Looks  down  with  wonder  at  the  sudden  view 

Of  all  this  world  at  once.    As  when  a  scout, 

Through  dark  and  desert  ways  with  peril  gone 

All  night,  at  last,  by  break  of  cheerful  dawn, 

Obtains  the  brow  of  some  high-climbing  hill, 

Which  to  his  eye  discovers  unaware 

The  goodly  prospect  of  some  foreign  land 

First  seen,  or  some  renown'd  metropolis  549 

With  glistering  spires  and  pinnacles  adorn'd, 

Which  now  the  rising  sun  gilds  with  his  beams  • 

Such  wonder  seized,  though  after  Heaven  seen, 

The  spirit  malign,  but  much  more  envy  seized 

At  sight  of  all  this  world  beheld  so  fair. 

Round  he  surveys  (and  well  might  where  he  stood 

So  high  above  the  circling  canopy 

Of  night's  extended  shade)  from  eastern  point 

Of  Libra  to  the  fleecy  star  that  bears 

Andromeda  far  off  Atlantic  seas 

Beyond  the  horizon ;  then  from  pole  to  pole  560 

He  views  in  breadth,  and  without  longer  pause 

Down  right  into  the  world's  first  region  throws 

His  flight  precipitant,  and  winds  with  ease, 

Through  the  pure  marble  air,  his  oblique  way 

Amongst  innumerable  stars,  that  shone 

Stars  distant,  but  nigh  hand  seem'd  other  worlds  ; 

Or  other  worlds  they  seem'd,  or  happy  isles, 

Like  those  Hesperian  gardens  famed  of  old, 

Fortunate  fields,  and  groves,  and  flowery  vales, 

Thrice  happy  isles,  but  who  dwelt  happy  there 

He  stay'd  not  to  inquire  :  above  them  all  571 


B.  III.]  TARADISE    LOST.  103 

The  golden  sun,  in  splendor  likest  Heaven 

Allured  his  eye ;  thither  his  course  he  bends 

Through  the  calm  firmament,  (but  up  or  down, 

By  centre,  or  eccentric,  hard  to  tell, 

Or  longitude,)  where  the  great  luminary, 

Aloof  the  vulgar  constellations  thick, 

That  from  his  lordly  eye  keep  distance  due, 

Dispenses  light  from  far ;  they  as  they  move 

Their  starry  dance,  in  numbers  that  compute 

Days,  months,  and  years,  towards  his  all-cheering  lamp 

Turn  swift  their  various  motions,  or  are  turn'd  682 

By  his  magnetic  beam,  that  gently  warms 

The  universe,  and  to  each  inward  part, 

With  gentle  penetration,  though  unseen, 

Shoots  invisible  virtue  even  to  the  deep ; 

So  wondrously  was  set  his  station  bright. 

There  lands  the  fiend,  a  spot  like  which  perhaps 

Astronomer  in  the  sun's  lucent  orb, 

Through  his  glazed  optic  tube,  yet  never  saw. 

The  place  he  found  beyond  expression  bright, 

Compared  with  aught  on  earth,  metal  or  stone;          592 

Not  all  parts  like,  but  all  alike  informed 

With  radiant  light,  as  glowing  iron  with  fire ; 

If  metal,  part  seem'd  gold,  part  silver  clear ; 

If  stone,  carbuncle  most  or  chrysolite, 

Ruby  or  topaz,  to  the  twelve  that  shone 

In  Aaron's  breastplate,  and  a  stone  besides 

Imagined  rather  oft  than  elsewhere  seen, 

That  stone,  or  like  to  that,  which  here  below 

Philosophers  in  vain  so  long  have  sought, — 

In  vain,  though  by  their  powerful  art  they  bind 

Volatile  Hermes,  and  call  up  unbound  608 

In  various  shapes  old  Proteus  from  the  sea, 

Drain'd  through  a  limbec  to  his  native  form. 

What  wonder  then  if  fields  and  regions  here 

Breathe  forth  elixir  pure,  and  rivers  run 

Potable  gold,  when  with  one  virtuous  touch 

The  arch-chemic  sun,  so  far  from  us  remote, 

Produces,  with  terrestrial  humor  mix'd, 

Here  in  the  dark  so  many  precious  things 

Of  color  glorious  and  effect  so  rare  ? 

Here  matter  new  to  gaze  the  devil  met 

Undazzled ;  far  and  wide  his  eye  commands ;  614 


104  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  KL 

For  siglit  no  obstacle  found  here,  nor  shade, 

But  all  sunshine,  as  when  his  beams  at  noon 

Culminate  from  the  equator,  as  they  now 

Shot  upward  still  direct,  whence  no  way  round 

Shadow  from  body  opaque  can  fall ;  and  the  air 

Nowhere  so  clear,  sharpened  his  visual  ray 

To  objects  distant  far,  whereby  he  soon 

Saw  within  ken  a  glorious  angel  stand, 

The  same  whom  John  saw  also  in  the  sun : 

His  back  was  turn'd,  but  not  his  brightness  hid ;         624 

Of  beaming  sunny  rays  a  golden  tiar 

Circled  his  head,  nor  less  his  locks  behind 

Illustrious  on  his  shoulders  fledge  with  wings 

Lay  waving  round ;  on  some  great  charge  employed 

He  seem'd,  or  fix'd  in  cogitation  deep. 

Glad  was  the  spirit  impure,  as  now  in  hope 

To  find  who  might  direct  his  wandering  flight 

To  Paradise,  the  happy  seat  of  man, 

His  journey's  end,  and  our  beginning  woe. 

But  first  he  casts  to  change  his  proper  shape, 

Which  else  might  work  him  danger  or  delay :  635 

And  now  a  stripling  cherub  he  appears, 

ETot  of  the  prime,  yet  such  as  in  his  face  * 

Youth  smiled  celestial,  and  to  every  limb 

Suitable  grace  diffused,  so  well  he  feign'd ; 

Under  a  coronet  his  flowing  hair 

In  curls  on  either  cheek  play'd ;  wings  he  wore 

Of  many  a  color' d  plume  sprinkled  with  gold, 

His  habit  fit  for  speed  succinct,  and  held 

Before  his  decent  steps  a  silver  wand. 

He  drew  not  nigh  unheard;  the  angel  bright, 

Ere  he  drew  nigh,  his  radiant  visage  turn'd,  646 

Admonish'd  by  his  ear,  and  straight  was  known 

The  archangel  Uriel,  one  of  the  seven 

"Who  in  God's  presence,  nearest  to  his  throne, 

Stand  ready  at  command,  and  are  his  eyes 

That  run  through  all  the  Heavens,  or  down  to  the  earth 

Bear  his  swift  errands  over  rnoist  and  dry, 

O'er  sea  and  land :  him  Satan  thus  accosts : 

"  Uriel,  for  thou  of  those  seven  spirits  that  stand 
In  sight  of  God's  high  throne,  gloriously  bright, 
The  first  art  wont  his  great  authentic  will 
Interpreter  through  highest  Heaven  to  bring,  657 


B.  III.]  PARADISE    LOST.  105 

Where  all  his  sons  thy  embassy  attend , 

And  here  are  likeliest  by  supreme  decree 

Like  honor  to  obtain,  and  as  his  eye 

To  visit  oft  this  new  creation  round ; 

Unspeakable  desire  to  see,  and  know 

All  these  his  wondrous  works,  but  chiefly  man, 

His  chief  delight  and  favor,  him  for  whom 

All  these  his  works  so  wondrous  he  ordain'd, 

Hath  brought  me  from  the  quires  of  cherubim 

Alone  thus  wandering.     Brightest  seraph,  tell  667 

In  which  of  all  these  shining  orbs  hath  man 

His  fixed  seat,  or  fixed  seat  hath  none, 

But  all  these  shining  orbs  his  choice  to  dwell ; 

That  I  may  find  him,  and  with  secret  gaze, 

Or  open  admiration,  him  behold, 

On  whom  the  great  Creator  hath  bestow'd 

Worlds,  and  on  whom  hath  all  these  graces  pourd; 

That  both  in  him  and  all  things,  as  is  meet, 

The  universal  Maker  we  may  praise ; 

Who  justly  hath  driven  out  his  rebel  foes 

To  deepest  Hell,  and  to  repair  that  loss  678 

Created  this  new  happy  race  of  men 

To  serve  him  better :  wise  are  all  his  ways." 

So  spake  the  false  dissembler  unperceived ; 
For  neither  man  nor  angel  can  discern 
Hypocrisy,  the  only  evil  that  walks 
Invisible  except  to  God  alone, 
By  his  permissive  will,  through  Heaven  and  earth : 
And  oft,  though  wisdom  wake,  suspicion  sleeps 
At  wisdom's  gate,  and  to  simplicity 
Resigns  her  charge,  while  goodness  thinks  no  ill 
Where  no  ill  seems ;  which  now  for  once  beguiled      688 
Uriel,  though  regent  of  the  sun,  and  held 
The  sharpest-sighted  spirit  of  all  in  Heaven ; 
Who  to  the  fraudulent  impostor  foul, 
In  his  uprightness,  answer  thus  returned: 

u  Fair  angel,  thy  desire  which  tends  to  know 
The  works  of  God,  thereby  to  glorify  . 
The  great  Work-Master,  leads  to  no  excess 
That  reaches  blame,  but  rather  merits  praise 
The  more  it  seems  excess,  that  led  thee  hither 
From  thy  empyreal  mansion  thus  alone, 
To  witness  with  thine  eyes  what  some  perhaps,  700 


106  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  in 

Contented  with  report,  hear  only  in  Heaven ; 

For  wonderful  indeed  are  all  his  works, 

Pleasant  to  know,  and  worthiest  to  be  all 

Had  in  remembrance  always  with  delight ; 

But  what  created  mind  can  comprehend 

Their  number,  or  the  wisdom  infinite 

That  brought  them  forth,  but  hid  their  causes  deep  ? 

I  saw  when  at  his  word  the  formless  mass, 

This  world's  material  mould,  came  to  a  heap : 

Confusion  heard  his  voice,  and  wild  uproar  710 

Stood  ruled,  stood  vast  infinitude  confined ; 

Till  at  his  second  bidding  darkness  fled, 

Light  shone,  and  order  from  disorder  sprung. 

Swift  to  their  several  quarters  hasted  then 

The  cumbrous  elements,  earth,  flood,  air,  fire , 

And  this  ethereal  quintessence  of  Heaven 

Elew  upward,  spirited  with  various  forms, 

That  rolPd  orbicular,  and  turn'd  to  stars 

Numberless,  as  thou  seest,  and  how  they  move ; 

Each  had  his  place  appointed,  each  his  course ; 

The  rest  in  circuit  walls  this  universe.  721 

Look  downward  on  that  globe,  whose  hither  side 

"With  light  from  hence,  though  but  reflected,  shines  ; 

That  place  is  earth,  the  seat  of  man,  that  light 

His  day,  which  else,  as  the  other  hemisphere, 

Night  would  invade ;  but  there  the  neighboring  moon 

(So  call  that  opposite  fair  star)  her  aid 

Timely  interposes,  and  her  monthly  round 

Still  ending,  still  renewing,  through  mid  Heaven, 

With  borrow'd  light  her  countenance  triform 

Hence  fills  and  empties  to  enlighten  the  earth, 

And  in  her  pale  dominion  checks  the  night.  732 

That  spot  to  which  I  point  is  Paradise, 

Adam's  abode,  those  lofty  shades  his  bower. 

Thy  way  thou  canst  not  miss,  me  mine  requires."' 

Thus  said,  he  turn'd ;  and  Satan,  bowing  low, 
As  to  superior  spirits  is  wont  in  Heaven, 
Where  honor  due  and  reverence  nonje  neglects, 
Took  leave,  and  toward  the  coast  of  earth  beneath, 
Down  from  the  ecliptic,  sped  with  hoped  success, 
Throws  his  steep  flight  in  many  an  airy  wheel, 
Nor  stay'd,  till  on  Niphates'  top  he  lights.  74fi 


PARADISE    LOST. 


BOOK  IV. 

THE    ARGUMENT. 

now  fn  prospect  of  Eden,  and  nigh  the  place  where  he  must  now  attempt  the 
bold  enterprise  which  he  undertook  alone  against  God  and  man,  falls  into  many 
doubts  with  himself,  and  many  passions,  fear,  envy,  and  despair  :  but  at  length  con 
firms  himself  in  evil,  journeys  on  to  Paradise,  whose  outward  prospect  and  situa 
tion  is  described,  overleaps  the  bounds,  sits  in  the  shape  of  a  cormorant  on  the  tree 
of  life,  as  highest  in  the  garden,  to  look  about  him.  The  garden  described  ;  Satan's 
first  sight  of  Adam  and  Eve  ;  his  wonder  at  their  excellent  form  and  happy  state, 
but  with  resolution  to  work  their  fall ;  overhears  their  discourse,  thence  gathers 
that  the  tree  of  knowledge  was  forbidden  them  to  eat  of,  under  penalty  of  death  ; 
and  thereon  intends  to  found  his  temptation,  by  seducing  them  to  transgress : 
then  leaves  them  awhile,  to  know  further  of  their  state  by  some  other  means. 
Meanwhile  Uriel,  descending  on  a  sunbeam,  warns  Gabriel,  who  had  in  charge 
the  gate  of  Paradise,  that  some  evil  spirit  had  escaped  the  deep,  and  passed  at  noon 
by  his  sphere,  in  the  shape  of  a  good  angel,  down  to  Paradise,  discovered  after  by 
his  furious  gestures  in  the  mount.  Gabriel  promises  to  find  him  ere  morning. 
Night  coming  on,  Adam  and  Eve  discourse  of  going  to  their  rest :  their  bower  de- 
scribed ;  their  evening  worship.  Gabriel,  drawing  forth  his  bands  of  night-watch 
to  walk  the  round  of  Paradise,  appoints  two  strong  angels  to  Adam's  bower,  lest 
the  evil  spirit  should  be  there  doing  some  harm  to  Adam  or  Eve  sleeping :  there 
they  find  him  at  the  ear  of  Eve,  tempting  her  in  a  dream,  and  bring  him,  though 
unwilling,  to  Gabriel ;  by  whom  questioned,  he  scornfully  answers,  prepares  re- 
sistance, but,  hindered  by  a  sign  from  Heaven,  flies  out  of  Paradise. 

O  FOE  that  warning  voice,  which  he  who  saw 

The  Apocalypse  heard  cry  in  Heaven  aloud, 

Then  when  the  Dragon,  put  to  second  rout, 

Came  furious  down  to  be  revenged  on  men, 

u  Woe  to  the  inhabitants  on  earth  1"  that  now, 

While  time  was,  our  first  parents  had  been  warn'd 

The  coming  of  their  secret  foe,  and  'scaped, 

Haply  so  'scaped  his  mortal  snare :  for  now 

Satan,  now  first  inflamed  with  rage,  came  down, 

The  tempter  ere  the  accuser  of  mankind, 

To  wreak  on  innocent  frail  man  his  loss 

Of  that  first  battle,  and  his  flight  to  Hell : 

Yet  not  rejoicing  in  his  speed,  though  bold  18 


108  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  IT 

Far  off  and  fearless,  nor  with  cause  to  boast, 

Begins  his  dire  attempt,  which,  nigh  the  birthr 

Now  rolling  boils  in  his  tumultuous  breast, 

And  like  a  devilish  engine  back  recoils 

Upon  himself ;  horror  and  doubt  distract 

His  troubled  thoughts,  and  from  the  bottom  stir 

The  Hell  within  him;  for  within  him  Hell 

He  brings,  and  round  about  him,  nor  from  Hell 

One  step  no  more  than  from  himself  can  fly 

By  change  of  place :  now  conscience  wakes  despair     2£ 

That  slumber'd,  wakes  the  bitter  memory 

Of  what  he  was,  what  is,  and  what  must  be 

Worse ;  of  worse  deeds  worse  sufferings  must  ensue, 

Sometimes  towards  Eden,  which  now  in  his  view 

Lay  pleasant,  his  grieved  look  he  fixes  sad ; 

Sometimes  towards  Heaven  and  the  full-blazing  sun, 

Which  now  sat  high  in  his  meridian  tower ; 

Then,  much  revolving,  thus  in  sighs  began  : 

u  O  thou,  that  with  surpassing  glory  crowned 
Look'st  from  thy  sole  dominion  like  the  god 
Of  this  new  world ;  at  whose  sight  all  the  stars  34 

Hide  their  diminish'd  heads ;  to  thee  I  call,  - 
But  with  no  friendly  voice,  and  add  thy  name, 

0  Sun,  to  tell  thee  how  I  hate  thy  beams, 
That  bring  to  my  remembrance  from  what  state 

1  fell,  how  glorious  once  above  thy  sphere  ; 
Till  pride  and  worse  ambition  threw  me  down 
Warring  in  Heaven  against  Heaven's  matchless  King  • 
Ah,  wherefore !  he  deserved  no  such  return 

From  me,  whom  he  created  what  I  was 

In  that  bright  eminence,  and  with  his  good 

Upbraided  none ;  nor  was  his  service  hard.  4£ 

What  could  be  less  than  to  afford  him  praise, 

The  easiest  recompense,  and  pay  him  thanks, 

How  due !  yet  all  his  good  proved  ill  in  me, 

And  wrought  but  malice ;  lifted  up  so  high 

I  'sdain'd  subjection,  and  thought  one  step  higher 

Would  set  me  highest,  and  in  a  moment  quit 

The  debt  immense  of  endless  gratitude, 

So  burdensome  still  paying,  still  to  owe ; 

Forgetful  what  from  him  I  still  received, 

And  understood  not  that  a  grateful  mind 

By  owing  owes  not,  but  still  pays,  at  once  56 


U.  IV.  I  PARADISE    LOST.  10U 

Indebted  and  discharged :  what  burden  then  ? 
O  had  his  powerful  destiny  ordain'd 
Me  some  inferior  angel,  I  had  stood 
Then  happy;  no  unbounded  hope  had  raised 
Ambition.    Yet  why  not  ?  some  other  power 
As  great  might  have  aspired,  and  me,  though  mear 
Drawn  to  his  part ;  but  other  powers  as  great 
Fell  not,  but  stand  unshaken,  from  within 
Or  from  without,  to  all  temptations  arm'd. 
Hadst  thou  the  same  free  will  and  power  to  staL.l  ?       Oti 
Thou  hadst :  whom  hast  thou  then  or  what  to  accuse, 
But  Heaven's  free  love  dealt  equally  to  all  ? 
Be  then  his  love  accursed,  since  love  or  hate, 
To  me  alike,  it  deals  eternal  woe. 
Nay,  cursed  be  thou  ;  since  against  his  thy  will 
Chose  freely  what  it  now  so  justly  rues. 
Me  miserable !  which  way  shall  I  fly 
Infinite  wrath,  and  infinite  despair  ? 
Which  way  I  fly  is  Hell ;  myself  am  Hell ; 
And  in  the  lowest  deep  a  lower  deep, 
Still  threatening  to  devour  me,  opens  wide,  77 

To  which  the  Hell  I  suffer  seems  a  Heaven. 
O  then  at  last  relent :  is  there  no  place 
Left  for  repentance,  none  for  pardon  left  ? 
None  left  but  by  submission ;  and  that  word 
Disdain  forbids  me,  and  my  dread  of  shame 
Among  the  spirits  beneath,  whom  I  seduced 
With  other  promises  and  other  vaunts 
Than  to  submit,  boasting  I  could  subdue 
The  Omnipotent.     Ay  me,  they  little  know 
How  dearly  I  abide  that  boast  so  vain, 
Under  what  torments  inwardly  I  groan,  98 

While  they  adore  me  on  the  throne  of  Hell. 
With  diadem  and  sceptre  high  advanced, 
The  lower  still  I  fall,  only  supreme 
In  misery ;  such  joy  ambition  finds. 
Bat  say  I  could  repent  and  could  obtain 
B v  act  of  grace  my  former  state ;  how  soon 
Would  height  recall  high  thoughts,  how  soon  unsay 
What  feign'd  submission  swore !  ease  would  recant 
Vows  made  in  pain,  as  violent  and  void. 
For  never  can  true  reconcilement  grow 
Where  wounds  of  deadly  hate  have  pierced  so  deep ;    \j£ 

10 


110  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  iv 

Which  would  but  lead  me  to  a  worse  relapse 

And  heavier  fall :  so  should  I  purchase  dear 

Short  intermission  bought  with  double  smart. 

This  knows  my  punisher ;  therefore  as  far 

From  granting  he,  as  I  from  begging  peace : 

All  hope  excluded  thus,  behold  instead 

Of  us,  outcast,  exiled,  his  new  delight, 

Mankind  created,  and  for  him  this  world. 

So  farewell  hope,  and  with  hope,  fai  ewell  fear, 

Farewell  remorse :  all  good  to  me  is  lost ; 

EviL,  be  thou  my  good ;  by  thee  at  least  ]  1 C 

Divided  empire  with  Heaven's  King  I  hold, 

By  thee,  and  more  than  half  perhaps  will  reign ; 

As  man  ere  long,  and  this  new  world,  shall  know." 

Thus  while  he  spake  each  passion  dimm'd  his  face, 
Thrice  changed  with  pale  ire,  envy,  and  despair ; 
Which  marr'd  his  borrowed  visage,  and  betray'd 
"Him  counterfeit,  if  any  eye  beheld : 
For  heavenly  minds  from  such  distempers  foul 
Are  ever  clear.     Whereof  he  soon  aware, 
Each  perturbation  smooth'd  with  outward  calm,         120 
Artificer  of  fraud ;  and  was  the  first 
That  practised  falsehood  under  saintly  show, 
Deep  malice  to  conceal,  couch'd  with  revenge : 
Yet  not  enough  had  practised  to  deceive 
Uriel  once  warn'd ;  whose  eye  pursued  him  down 
The  way  he  went,  and  on  the  Assyrian  mount 
Saw  him  disfigured,  more  than  could  befall 
Spirit  of  happy  sort :  his  gestures  fierce 
He  mark'd  and  mad  demeanor,  then  alone, 
As  he  supposed,  all  unobserved,  unseen. 
So  on  he  fares,  and  to  the  border  comes  131 

Of  Eden,  where  delicious  Paradise, 
Now  nearer,  crowns  with  her  inclosure  green, 
As  with  a  rural  mound,  the  champaign  head 
Of  a  steep  wilderness,  whose  hairy  sides 
With  thicket  overgrown,  grotesque  and  wild, 
Access  denied ;  and  overhead  upgrew 
Insuperable  height  of  loftiest  shade, 
Cedar,  and  pine,  and  fir,  and  branching  palm, 
A  sylvan  scene,  and,  as  the  ranks  ascend, 
Shade  above  shade,  a  woody  theatre* 
Of  stateliest  view.     Yet  higher  than  their  tops  14% 


B.  IV.]  PARADISE    LOST  113 

The  verdurous  wall  of  Paradise  up-sprung : 
Which  to  our  general  sire  gave  prospect  large 
Into  his  nether  empire  neighboring  round. 
And  higher  than  that  wall  a  circling  row 
Of  goodliest  trees,  loaden  with  fairest  fruit, 
Blossoms  and  fruits  at  once  of  golden  hue, 
Appeared,  with  gay  enamell'd  colors  mix'd ; 
On  which  the  sun  more  glad  impressed  his  bean.s 
Than  in  fair  evening  cloud,  or  humid  bow, 
When  God  hath  shower' d  the  earth ;  so  lovely  seem'd 
That  landscape :  and  of  pure,  now  purer  air  15-°, 

Meets  his  approach,  and  to  the  heart  inspires 
Vernal  delight  and  joy,  able  to  drive 
All  sadness  but  despair ;  now  gentle  gales, 
Fanning  their  odoriferous  wings,  dispense 
Native  perfumes,  and  whisper  whence  they  stole 
Those  balmy  spoils.     As  when  to  them  who  sail 
Beyond  the  Cape  of  Hope,  and  now  are  past 
Mozambic,  off  at  sea  northeast  winds  blow 
Sabean  odors  from  the  spicy  shore 
Of  Araby  the  blest;  with  such  delay  163 

Well  pleased  they  slack  their  course,  and  many  a  league, 
Cheer'd  with  the  grateful  smell,  old  Ocean  smiles  : 
So  entertain'd  those  odorous  sweets  the  fiend 
Who  came  their  bane,  though  with  them  better  pleased 
Than  Asmodeus  with  the  fishy  fume 
That  drove  him,  though  enamor'd,  from  the  spouse 
Of  Tobit's  son,  and  with  a  vengeance  sent 
From  Media  post  to  Egypt,  there  fast  bound. 
Now  to  the  ascent  of  that  steep  savage  hill 
Satan  had  journey'd  on,  pensive  and  slow ; 
But  further  way  found  none,  so  thick  intwined,  174 

As  one  continued  brake,  the  undergrowth 
Of  shrubs  and  tangling  bushes  had  perplexM 
All  path  of  man  or  beast  that  pass'd  that  way : 
One  gate  there  only  was,  and  that  look'd  east 
On  the  other  side ;  which  when  the  arch-felon  saw, 
Due  entrance  he  disdained,  and  in  contempt, 
At  one  slight  bound  high  overleap'd  all  bound 
Of  hill  or  highest  wall,  and  sheer  within 
Lights  on  his  feet.     As  when  a  prowling  wolf, 
Whom  hunger  drives  to  seek  new  haunt  for  prey, 
Watching  where  shepherds  pen  their  flocks  at  eve,      185 


112  MILTOJj's    POETICAL    WORKS.  ("B.  IV 

In  hurdled  cotes  amid  the  field  secure, 

Leaps  o'er  the  fence  with  ease  into  the  fold  ; 

Or  as  a  thief  bent  to  unhoard  the  cash 

Of  some  rich  burgher,  whose  substantial  doors, 

Cross-barr'd  and  bolted  fast,  fear  no  assault, 

In  at  the  window  climbs,  or  o'er  the  tiles : 

So  clomb  this  first  grand  thief  into  God's  fold  ; 

So  since  into  his  church  lewd  hirelings  climb. 

Thence  up  he  flew,  and  on  the  tree  of  life, 

The  middle  tree  and  highest  there  that  grew,  190 

Sat  like  a  cormorant ;  yet  not  true  life 

Thereby  regain'd,  but  sat  devising  death 

To  them  who  lived ;  nor  on  the  virtue  thought 

Of  that  life-giving  plant,  but  only  used 

For  prospect,  what  well  used  had  been  the  pledge 

Of  immortality.     So  little  knows 

Any,  but  God  alone,  to  value  right 

The  good  before  him,  but  perverts  best  things 

To  worst  abuse,  or  to  their  meanest  use. 

Beneath  him  with  new  wonder  now  he  views, 

To  all  delight  of  human  sense  exposed,  206 

In  narrow  room  Nature's  whole  wealth,  yea  more, 

A  Heaven  on  earth :  for  blissful  Paradise 

Of  God  the  garden  was,  by  him  in  the  east 

Of  Eden  planted.    Eden  stretch'd  her  line 

From  Auran  eastward  to  the  royal  towers 

Of  great  Seleucia,  built  by  Grecian  kings, 

Or  where  the  sons  of  Eden  long  before 

Dwelt  in  Telassar ;  in  this  pleasant  soil 

His  far  more  pleasant  garden  God  ordain'd. 

Out  of  the  fertile  ground  he  caused  to  grow 

All  trees  of  noblest  kind  for  sight,  smell,  taste ;  217 

And  all  amid  them  stood  the  tree  of  life, 

High  eminent,  blooming  ambrosial  fruit 

Of  vegetable  gold ;  and  next  to  life, 

Our  death,  the  tree  of  knowledge,  grew  fast  by, 

Knowledge  of  good  bought  dear  by  knowing  ill. 

Southward  through  Eden  went  a  river  large, 

Nor  changed  his  course,  but  through  the  shaggy  hill 

Pass'd  underneath  ingulf 'd;  for  God  had  thrown 

That  mountain  as  his  garden  mould  high  raised 

Upon  the  rapid  current,  which  through  veins 

Of  porous  earth,  with  kindly  thirst  up-drawn,  228 


B.  IV,]  PARADISE    LOST.  116 

Rose  a  fresh  fountain,  and  with  many  a  rill 

Water'd  the  garden ;  thence  united  fell 

Down  the  steep  glade,  and  met  the  nether  flood, 

Which  from  his  darksome  passage  now  appears, 

And  now  divided  into  four  main  streams, 

Runs  diverse,  wandering  many  a  famous  realm 

And  country,  whereof  here  needs  no  account : 

But  rather  to  tell  how,  if  Art  could  tell, 

How  from  that  sapphire  fount  the  crisped  hrooks, 

Rolling  on  orient  pearls  and  sands  of  gold,  236 

With  mazy  error  under  pendent  shades 

Ran  nectar,  visiting  each  plant,  and  feel 

Flowers  worthy  of  Paradise,  which  not  nice  Art, 

In  beds  and  curious  knots,  but  Nature  boon 

Poured  fortli  profuse  on  hill  and  dale  and  plain, 

Both  where  the  morning  sun  first  warmly  smote 

The  open  field,  and  where  the  unpierced  shade 

Imbrown'd  the  noontide  bowers.     Thus  was  this  place 

A  happy  rural  seat  of  various  views ; 

Groves  whose  rich  trees  wept  odorous  gums  and  balm, 

Others  whose  fruit,  burnish'd  with  golden  rind,  249 

Hung  amiable,  (Hesperian  fables  true, 

If  true,  here  only,)  and  of  delicious  taste : 

Betwixt  them  lawns,  or  level  downs,  and  flocks 

Grazing  the  tender  herb,  were  interposed, 

Or  palmy  hillock ;  or  the  flowery  lap 

Of  some  irriguous  valley  spread  her  store, 

Flowers  of  all  hue,  and  without  thorn  the  rose : 

Another  side,  umbrageous  grots  and  caves 

Of  cool  recess,  o'er  which  the  mantling  vine 

Lays  forth  her  purple  grape,  and  gently  creeps 

Luxuriant ;  meanwhile  murmuring  waters  fall  260 

Down  the  slope  hills,  dispersed,  or  in  a  lake, 

That  to  the  fringed  bank  with  myrtle  crown' d 

Her  crystal  mirror  holds,  unite  their  streams. 

The  birds  their  quire  apply ;  airs,  vernal  airs, 

Breathing  the  smell  of  field  and  grove,  attune 

The  trembling  leaves,  while  universal  Pan, 

Knit  with  the  Graces  and  the  Hours,  in  dance 

Led  on  the  eternal  spring.     Not  that  fair  field 

Of  Enna,  where  Proserpine  gathering  flowers, 

Herself  a  fairer  flower,  by  gloomy  Dis 

Was  gathered,  which  cost  Ceres  all  that  pain  271 


I  ]  4  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  iv 

To  seek  her  through  the  world ;  nor  that  sweet  grove 

Of  Daphne  by  Orontes,  and  the  inspired 

Castalian  spring,  might  with  this  Paradise 

Of  Eden  strive :  nor  that  Nyseian  isle, 

Girt  with  the  river  Triton,  .where  old  Cham, 

Whom  Gentiles  Ammon  call  and  Libyan  Jove, 

Hid  Amalthea,  and  her  florid  son, 

Young  Bacchus,  from  his  step-dame  Ehea's  eye ; 

Nor  where  Abassin  kings  their  issue  guard, 

Mount  Amara,  though  this  by  some  supposed  281 

True  Paradise,  under  the  Ethiop  line 

By  -Nilus'  head,  .inclosed  with  shining  rock, 

A  whole  day's  journey  high,  but  wide  remote 

From  this  Assyrian  garden,  where  the  fiend 

Saw  undelighted  all  delight,  all  kind 

Of  living  creatures  new  to  sight  and  strange. 

Two  of  far  nobler  shape,  erect  and  tall, 

Godlike  erect,  with  native  honor  clad, 

In  naked  majesty  seem'd  lords  of  all, 

And  worthy  seem'd  ;  for  in  their  looks  divine 

The  image  of  their  glorious  Maker  shone,  292 

Truth,  wisdom,  sanctitude  severe  and  pure, 

(Severe,  but  in  true  filial  freedom  placed,) 

Whence  true  authority  in  men ;  though  both 

Not  equal,  as  their  sex  not  equal  seem'd ; 

For  contemplation  he  and  valor  form'd, 

For  softness  she  and  sweet  attractive  grace, 

He  for  God  only,  she  for  God  in  him. 

His  fair  large  front  and  eye  sublime  declared 

Absolute  rule ;  and  hyacinthine  locks 

Round  from  his  parted  forelock  manly  hung 

Clustering,  but  not  beneath  his  shoulders  broad  :        303 

She,  as  a  veil,  down  to  the  slender  waist 

Her  unadorned  golden  tresses  wore 

Dishevell'd,  but  in  wanton  ringlets  waved 

As  the  vine  curls  her  tendrils,  which  implied 

Subjection,  but  required  with  gentle  sway, 

And  by  her  yielded,  by  him  best  received, 

Yielded  with  coy  submission,  modest  pride, 

And  sweet  reluctant  amorous  delay. 

Nor  those  mysterious  parts  were  then  conceal'd : 

Then  was  not  guilty  shame,  dishonest  shame 

Of  Nature's  works,  honor  dishonorable:  814 


3.  IV.1  PARADISE    LOST.  115 

Sin-bred,  how  have  ye  troubled  all  mankind 

With  shows  instead,  mere  shows  of  seeming  pure, 

And  banish'd  from  man's  life  his  happiest  life, 

Simplicity  and  spotless  innocence ! 

So  passed  they  naked  on,  nor  shunn'd  the  sight 

Of  God  or  angel,  for  they  thought  no  ill : 

So  hand  in  hand  they  pass'd,  the  loveliest  pair 

That  ever  since  in  love's  embraces  met ; 

Adam,  the  goodliest  man  of  men  since  born 

His  sons ;  the  fairest  of  her  daughters,  Eve.  ;;24 

Under  a  tuft  of  shade,  that  on  a  green 

Stood  whispering  soft,  by  a  fresh  fountain  side, 

They  sat  them  down ;  and,  after  no  more  toil 

Of  their  sweet  gardening  labor  than  sufficed 

To  recommend  cool  Zephyr,  and  make  ease 

More  easy,  wholesome  thirst  and  appetite 

More  grateful,  to  their  supper  fruits  they  fell, 

Nectarine  fruits  which  the  compliant  boughs 

Yielded  them,  sidelong  as  they  sat  recline 

On  the  soft  downy  bank  damask'd  with  flowers : 

The  savory  pulp  they  chew,  and  in  the  rind  335 

Still  as  they  thirsted  scoop  the  brimming  stream ; 

Nor  gentle  purpose  nor  endearing  smiles 

"Wanted,  nor  youthful  dalliance,  as  beseems 

Fair  couple,  link'd  in  happy  nuptial  league, 

Alone  as  they.     About  them  frisking  play'd 

All  beasts  of  the  earth,  since  wild,  and  of  all  chase, 

In  wood  or  wilderness,  forest  or  den ; 

Sporting  the  lion  ramp'd,  and  in  his  paw 

Dandled  the  kid ;  bears,  tigers,  ounces,  pards, 

Gamboll'd  before  them :  the  unwieldy  elephant, 

To  make  them  mirth,  used  all  his  might,  and  wreathed  34(3 

His  lithe  proboscis ;  close  the  serpent  sly, 

Insinuating,  wove  with  Gordian  twine 

His  braided  train,  and  of  his  fatal  guile 

Gave  proof  unheeded ;  others  on  the  grass 

Couch'd,  and,  now  fill'd  with  pasture,  gazing  sat, 

Or  bedward  ruminating ;  for  the  sun, 

Declined,  was  hasting  now  with  prone  career 

To  the  ocean  isles,  and  in  the  ascending  scale 

Of  Heaven  the  stars  that  usher  evening  rose  : 

When  Satan,  still  in  gaze  as  first  he  stood, 

Scarce  thus  at  length  fail'd  speech  recover'd  sad :        857 


116  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  iv 

"  O  Hell !  what  do  mine  eyes  with  grief  behold  ? 
Into  our  room  of  bliss  thus  high  advanced 
Creatures  of  other  mould,  earth-born  perhaps, 
Not  spirits,  yet  to  heavenly  spirits  bright 
Little  inferior ;  whom  my  thoughts  pursue 
With  wonder,  and  could  love,  so  lively  shines 
In  them  divine  resemblance,  and  such  grace 
The  hand  that  form'd  them  on  their  shape  hath  pour'd. 
Ah,  gentle  pair !  ye  little  think  how  nigh 
Your  change  approaches,  when  all  these  delights        867 
Will  vanish  and  deliver  ye  to  woe, 
More  woe,  the  more  your  taste  is  now  of  joy ; 
Happy,  but  for  so  happy  ill  secured 
Long  to  continue,  and  this  high  seat  your  Heaven 
Ill-fenced  for  Heaven  to  keep  out  such  a  foe 
As  now  is  entered ;  yet  no  purposed  foe 
To  you,  whom  I  could  pity  thus  forlorn, 
Though  I  unpitied :  league  with  you  I  seek, 
And  mutual  amity  so  straight,  so  close, 
That  I  with  you  must  dwell,  or  you  with  me, 
Henceforth ;  my  dwelling  haply  may  not  please,        378 
Like  this  fair  Paradise,  your  sense,  yet  such 
Accept  your  Maker's  work ;  he  gave  it  me, 
Which  I  as  freely  give :  Hell  shall  unfold, 
To  entertain  you  two,  her  widest  gates, 
And  send  forth  all  her  kings ;  there  will  be  room, 
Not  like  these  narrow  limits,  to  receive 
Your  numerous  offspring ;  if  no  better  place, 
Thank  him  who  puts  me  loth  to  this  revenge 
On  you  who  wrong  me  not,  for  him  who  wrong'd. 
And  should  I  at  your  harmless  innocence 
Melt,  as  I  do,  yet  public  reason  just,  389 

Honor  and  empire  with  revenge  enlarged, 
By  conquering  this  new  world,  compels  me  now 
To  do  what  else,  though  damn'd,  I  should  abhor." 

So  spake  the  fiend,  and  with  necessity, 
The  tyrant's  plea,  excused  his  devilish  deeds. 
Then  from  his  lofty  stand  on  that  high  tree 
Down  he  alights  among  the  sportful  herd 
Of  those  four-footed  kinds,  himself  now  one, 
Now  other,  as  their  shape  served  best  his  end 
Nearer  to  view  his  prey,  and  unespied 
To  mark  what  of  their  state  he  more  might  learn       400 


.  IV.]  PARADISE    LOST.  117 

By  word  or  action  mark'd:  about  them  round 

A  lion  now  he  stalks  with  fiery  glare ; 

Then  as  a  tiger,  who  by  chance  hath  spied 

In  some  purlieu  two  gentle  fawns  at  play, 

Straight  couches  close,  then,  rising,  changes  oft 

His  couchant  watch,  as  one  who  chose  his  ground, 

Whence  rushing  he  might  surest  seize  them  both 

Gripp'd  in  each  paw :  when  Adam,  first  of  men, 

To  first  of  women,  Eve,  thus  moving  speech, 

Turn'd  him  all  ear  to  hear  new  utterance  flow :  ilO 

"  Sole  partner,  and  sole  part,  of  all  these  joys> 
Dearer  thyself  than  all ;  needs  must  the  Power 
That  made  us,  and  for  us  this  ample  world, 
Be  infinitely  good,  and  of  his  good 
As  liberal  and  free  as  infinite ; 
That  raised  us  from  the  dust  and  placed  us  here 
In  all  this  happiness,  who  at  his  hand 
Have  nothing  merited,  nor  can  perform 
Aught  whereof  he  hath  need ;  he  who  requires 
From  us  no  other  service  than  to  keep 
This  one,  this  easy  charge,  4  of  all  the  trees  421 

In  Paradise  that  bear  delicious  fruit 
So  various,  not  to  taste  that  only  tree 
Of  knowledge,  planted  by  the  tree  of  life ;' 
So  near  grows  death  to  life,  whatever  death  is, 
Some  dreadful  thing  no  doubt ;  for  well  thou  know'st 
God  hath  pronounced  it  death  to  taste  that  tree, 
The  only  sign  of  our  obedience  left 
Among  so  many  signs  of  power  and  rule 
Conferred  upon  us,  and  dominion  given 
Over  all  other  creatures  that  possess 
Earth,  air,  and  sea.     Then  let  us  not  think  hard         432 
One  easy  prohibition,  who  enjoy 
Free  leave  so  large  to  all  things  else,  and  choice 
Unlimited  of  manifold  delights : 
But  let  us  ever  praise  him,  and  extol 
His  bounty,  following  our  delightful  task 
To  prune  these  growing  plants,  and  tend  these  flowers, 
Which  were  it  toilsome,  yet  with  thee  were  sweet." 

To  whom  thus  Eve  replied :  "  0  thou  for  whom 
And  from  whom  I  was  form'd  flesh  of  thy  flesh. 
And  without  whom  am  to  no  end,  my  guide 
And  head,  what  thou  hast  said  is  just  and  right.         443 


118  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  iv 

For  we  to  him  indeed  all  praises  owe, 

And  daily  thanks ;  I  chiefly  who  enjoy 

So  far  the  happier  lot,  enjoying  thee 

Pre-eminent  by  so  much  odds,  while  thou 

Like  consort  to  thyself  canst  nowhere  find. 

That  day  I  oft  remember,  when  from  sleep 

I  first  awaked,  and  found  myself  reposed 

Under  a  shade  on  flowers,  much  wondering  where 

And  what  I  was,  whence  thither  brought,  and  how. 

Not  distant  far  from  thence  a  murmuring  sound         45S 

Of  waters  issued  from  a  cave,  and  spread 

Into  a  liquid  plain,  then  stood  unmoved 

Pure  as  the  expanse  of  Heaven ;  I  thither  went 

With  unexperienced  thought,  and  laid  me  down 

On  the  green  bank,  to  look  into  the  clear 

Smooth  lake,  that  to  me  seem'd  another  sky. 

As  I  bent  down  to  look,  just  opposite 

A  shape  within  the  watery  gleam  appeared, 

Bending  to  look  on  me :  I  started  back, 

It  started  back ;  but  pleased  I  soon  return'd, 

Pleased  it  return'd  as  soon  with  answering  looks        4G4 

Of  sympathy  and  love :  there  I  had  fix'd 

Mine  eyes  till  now,  and  pined  with  vain  desire, 

Had  not  a  voice  thus  warn'd  me  :  '  What  thou  seest, 

What  there  thou  seest,  fair  creature,  is  thyself; 

With  thee  it  came  and  goes :  but  follow  me, 

And  I  will  bring  thee  where  no  shadow  stays 

Thy  coming,  and  thy  soft  embraces — he 

Whose  image  thou  art;  him  thou  shalt  enjoy, 

Inseparably  thine,  to  him  shalt  bear 

Multitudes  like  thyself,  and  thence  be  call'd 

Mother  of  human  race.'     What  could  I  do,  475 

But  follow  straight,  invisibly  thus  led  ? 

Till  I  espied  thee,  fair  indeed  and  tall, 

Under  a  platan ;  yet  methought  less  fair, 

Less  winning  soft,  less  amiably  mild, 

Than  that  smooth  watery  image :  back  I  turn'd  ; 

Thou  following  criedst  aloud,  l  Return,  fair  Eve, 

Whom  fliest  thou  ?  whom  thou  fliest,  of  him  thou  art, 

His  flesh,  his  bone ;  to  give  thee  being  I  lent 

Out  of  my  side  to  thee,  nearest  my  heart, 

Substantial  life,  to  have  thee  by  my  side 

Henceforth  an  individual  solace  dear ;  486 


B.  IV.  I  PARADISE    LOST.  1 1  C 

Part  of  my  soul  I  seek  thee,  and  thee  claim 
My  other  half.'    With  that  thy  gentle  hand 
Seized  mine ;  I  yielded,  and  from  that  time  see 
How  beauty  is  excelPd  by  manly  grace 
And  wisdom,  which  alone  is  truly  fair." 

So  spake  our  general  mother,  and  with  eyes 
Of  conjugal  attraction,  unreproved, 
And  meek  surrender,  half  embracing  leaned 
On  our  first  father ;  half  her  swelling  breast 
Naked  met  his  under  the  flowing  gold  49  C 

Of  her  loose  tresses  hid ;  he  in  delight 
Both  of  her  beauty  and  submissive  charms 
Smiled  with  superior  love,  as  Jupiter 
On  Juno  smiles,  when  he  impregns  the  clouds 
That  shed  May  flowers;  and  press'd  her  matron  .ip 
With  kisses  pure :  aside  the  devil  turn'd 
For  envy,  yet  with  jealous  leer  malign 
Eyed  them  askance,  and  to  himself  thus  plain'd  : 

"Sight  hateful,  sight  tormenting!  thus  these  two, 
Imparadised  in  one  another's  arms, 
The  happier  Eden,  shall  enjoy  their  fill  507 

Of  bliss  on  bliss ;  while  I  to  Hell  am  thrust, 
Where  neither  joy  nor  love,  but  fierce  desire, 
Amongst  our  other  torments  not  the  least, 
Still  unfulfill'd,  with  pain  of  longing  pines. 
Yet  let  me  not  forget  what  I  have  gain'd 
From  their  own  mouths :  all  is  not  theirs  it  seerns ; 
One  fatal  tree  there  stands  of  knowledge  call'd, 
Forbidden  them  to  taste.     Knowledge  forbidden  ? 
Suspicious,  reasonless.     Why  should  their  Lord 
Envy  them  that?  can  it  be  sin  to  know? 
Can  it  be  death  ?  and  do  they  only  stand  516 

By  ignorance  ?  is  that  their  happy  state, 
The  proof  of  their  obedience  and  their  faith  ? 
O  fair  foundation  laid  whereon  to  build 
Their  ruin !     Hence  I  will  excite  their  minds 
With  more  desire  to  know,  and  to  reject 
Envious  commands,  invented  with  design 
To  keep  them  low  whom  knowledge  might  exalt 
Equal  with  gods :  aspiring  to  be  such, 
They  taste  and  die ;  what  likelier  can  ensue  ? 
But  first  with  narrow  search  I  must  walk  round 
This  garden,  and  no  corner  leave  unspied ;  62U 


120  MILTON'S  POEIFCAL  WORKS.  IB.  iv 

A  chance  but  chance  may  lead  where  I  may  meet 

Some  wandering  spirit  of  Heaven  by  fountain  side, 

Or  in  thick  shade  retired,  from  him  to  draw 

"What  further  would  be  learn'd.    Live  while  ye  may 

Yet  happy  pair ;  enjoy,  till  I  return, 

Short  pleasures,  for  long  woes  are  to  succeed.'1 

So  saying,  his  proud  step  he  scornful  turn'd, 
But  with  sly  circumspection,  and  began, 
Through  wood,  through  waste,  o'er  hill,  o'er  dale,  his  roam. 
Meanwhile  in  utmost  longitude,  where  Heaven  539 

With  earth  and  ocean  meets,  the  setting  sun 
Slowly  descended,  and  with  right  aspect 
Against  the  eastern  gate  of  Paradise 
Levell'd  his  evening  rays :  it  was  a  rock 
Of  alabaster,  piled  up  to  the  clouds, 
Conspicuous  far,  winding  with  one  ascent 
Accessible  from  earth,  one  entrance  high ; 
The  rest  was  craggy  cliff,  that  overhung 
Still  as  it  rose,  impossible  to  climb. 
Betwixt  these  rocky  pillars  Gabriel  sat, 
Chief  of  the  angelic  guards,  awaiting  night ;  550 

About  him  exercised  heroic  games 
The  unarm'd  youth  of  Heaven,  but  nigh  at  hand 
Celestial  armory,  shields,  helms,  and  spears, 
Hung  high  with  diamond  flaming,  and  with  gold 
Thither  came  Uriel,  gliding  through  the  even 
On  a  sunbeam,  swift  as  a  shooting  star 
In  autumn  thwarts  the  night,  when  vapors  fired 
Impress  the  air,  and  shows  the  mariner 
From  what  point  of  his  compass  to  beware 
Impetuous  winds  :  he  thus  begun  in  haste  : 

u  Gabriel,  to  thee  thy  course  by  lot  hath  given        561 
Charge  and  strict  watch,  that  to  this  happy  place 
No  evil  thing  approach  or  enter  in. 
This  day  at  height  of  noon  came  to  my  sphere 
A  spirit,  zealous,  as  he  seem'd,  to  know 
More  of  the  Almighty's  work,  and  chiefly  man, 
God's  latest  image :  I  described  his  way 
Bent  all  on  speed,  and  mark'd  his  airy  gait ; 
But  in  the  mount  that  lies  from  Eden  north, 
Where  he  first  lighted,  soon  discern'd  his  looks 
Alien  from  Heaven,  with  passions  foul  obscured : 
Mine  eye  pursued  him  still,  but  under  shade  572 


B.  IV.j  PARADISE    LOST.  121 

Lost  sight  of  him.     One  of  the  banish'd  crew, 
I  fear,  hath  ventured  from  the  deep,  to  raise 
New  troubles ;  him  thy  care  must  be  to  find." 

To  whom  the  winged  warrior  thus  returned : 
"  Uriel,  no  wonder  if  thy  perfect  sight, 
Amid  the  sun's  bright  circle  where  thou  sitt'st, 
See  far  and  wide :  in  at  this  gate  none  pass 
The  vigilance  here  placed,  but  such  as  come 
Well  known  from  Heaven  ;  and  since  meridian  hour 
No  creature  thence :  if  spirit  of  other  sort,  582 

So  minded,  have  o'erleap'd  these  earthy  bounds 
On  purpose,  hard  thou  know'st  it  to  exclude 
Spiritual  substance  with  corporeal  bar. 
But  if  within  the  circuit  of  these  walks, 
In  whatsoever  shape,  he  lurk  of  whom 
Thou  tell'st,  by  morrow  dawning  I  shall  know." 

So  promised  he ;  and  Uriel  to  his  charge 
Return'd  on  that  bright  beam,  whose  point  now  raised 
Bore  him  slope  downward  to  the  sun  now  fallen 
Beneath  the  Azores ;  whether  the  prime  orb, 
Incredible  how  swift,  had  thither  roll'd  593 

Diurnal,  or  this  less  voluble  earth, 
By  shorter  flight  to  the  east,  had  left  him  there, 
Arraying  with  reflected  purple  and  gold 
The  clouds  that  on  his  western  throne  attend. 
-*    Now  came  still  evening  on,  and  twilight  gray 
Had  in  her  sober  livery  all  things  clad ; 
Silence  accompanied ;  for  beast  and  bird, 
They  to  their  grassy  couch,  these  to  their  nests, 
Were  slunk,  all  but  the  wakeful  nightingale ; 
She  all  night  long  her  amorous  descant  sung ; 
Silence  was  pleased :  now  glow'd  the  firmament         604 
With  living  sapphires ;  Hesperus,  that  led 
The  starry  host,  rode  brightest,  till  the  moon, 
Rising  in  clouded  majesty,  at  length 
Apparent  queen,  unveil'd  her  peerless  light, 
And  o'er  the  dark  her  silver  mantle  threw. 

When  Adam  thus  to  Eve :  "Fair  consort,  the  hour 
Of  night,  and  all  things  now  retired  to  rest, 
Mind  us  of  like  repose,  since  God  hath  set 
Labor  and  rest,  as  day  and  night,  to  men 
Successive ;  and  the  timely  dew  of  sleep 
Now  falling  with  soft  slumberous  weight  inclines        615 

11 


122  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  iv 

Our  eyelids :  other  creatures  all  day  long 

Rove  idle  unemployed,  and  less  need  rest ; 

Man  hath  his  daily  work  of  body  or  mind 

Appointed,  which  declares  his  dignity, 

And  the  regard  of  Heaven  on  all  his  ways  ; 

While  other  animals  unactive  range, 

And  of  their  doings  God  takes  no  account. 

To-morrow,  ere  fresh  morning  streak  the  east 

"With  first  approach  of  light,  we  must  he  risen, 

And  at  our  pleasant  labor,  to  reform  623 

Yon  flowery  arbors,  yonder  alleys  green, 

Our  walk  at  noon,  with  branches  overgrown, 

That  mock  our  scant  manuring,  and  require 

More  hands  than  ours  to  lop  their  wanton  growth  • 

Those  blossoms  also,  and  those  dropping  gums, 

That  lie  bestrown,  unsightly  and  unsmooth, 

Ask  riddance,  if  we  mean  to  tread  with  ease ; 

Meanwhile,  as  Nature  wills,  night  bids  us  rest." 

To  whom  thus  Eve  with  perfect  beauty  adorn' d : 
"  My  author  and  disposer,  what  thou  bidd'st 
Unargued  I  obey;  so  God  ordains;  63 f; 

God  is  thy  law,  thou  mine ;  to  know  no  more 
Is  woman's  happiest  knowledge  and  her  praise. 
With  thee  conversing  I  forget  all  time ; 
All  seasons  and  their  change,  all  please  alike. 
Sweet  is  the  breath  of  morn,  her  rising  sweet, 
With  charm  of  earliest  birds  :  pleasant  the  sun, 
When  first  on  this  delightful  land  he  spreads 
His  orient  beams,  on  herb,  tree,  fruit,  and  flower, 
Glistering  with  dew ;  fragrant  the  fertile  earth 
After  soft  showers ;  and  sweet  the  coming  on  . 
Of  grateful  evening  mild ;  then  silent  night,  647 

With  this  her  solemn  bird,  and  this  fair  moon, 
And  these  the  gems  of  Heaven,  her  starry  train : 
But  neither  breath  of  morn,  when  she  ascends 
With  charm  of  earliest  birds ;  nor  rising  sun 
On  this  delightful  land ;  nor  herb,  fruit,  flower, 
Glistering  with  dew ;  nor  fragrance  after  showers ; 
Nor  grateful  evening  mild  ;  nor  silent  night 
With  this  her  solemn  bird,  nor  walk  by  rnoon, 
Or  glittering  starlight,  without  thee  is  sweet. 
But  wherefore  all  night  long  shine  these  ?  for  whom 
This  glorious  sight,  when  sleep  hath  shut  all  eyes?"    C5b 


B.  IV.  |  PARADISE    LOST.  123 

To  whom  our  general  ancestor  replied : 
u  Daughter  of  God  and  man,  accomplish'd  Eve, 
These  have  their  course  to  finish  round  the  earth 
By  morrow  evening,  and  from  land  to  land 
In  order,  though  to  nations  yet  unborn, 
Ministering  light  prepared,  they  set  and  rise ; 
Lest  total  darkness  should  by  night  regain 
Her  old  possession,  and  extinguish  life 
In  nature  and  all  things,  which  these  soft  fires 
Not  only  enlighten,  hut  with  kindly  heat  668 

Of  various  influence  foment  and  warm, 
Temper  or  nourish,  or  in  part  shed  down 
Their  stellar  virtue  on  all  kinds  that  grow 
On  earth,  made  hereby  apter  to  receive 
Perfection  from  the  sun's  more  potent  ray. 
These  then,  though  unbeheld  in  deep  of  night, 
Shine  not  in  vain ;  nor  think,  though  men  were  none, 
That  Heaven  would  want  spectators,  God  want  praise. 
Millions  of  spiritual  creatures  walk  the  earth 
Unseen,  both  when  we  wake,  and  when  we  sleep : 
All  these  with  ceaseless  praise  his  works  behold         679 
Both  day  and  night.    How  often  from  the  steep 
Of  echoing  hill  or  thicket  have  we  heard 
Celestial  voices  to  the  midnight  air, 
Sole,  or  responsive  each  to  other's  note, 
Singing  their  great  Creator  ?  oft  in  bands 
While  they  keep  watch,  or  nightly  rounding  walk, 
With  heavenly  touch  of  instrumental  sounds 
In  full  harmonic  number  join'd,  their  songs 
Divide  the  night,  and  lift  our  thoughts  to  Heaven." 

Thus  talking,  hand  in  hand  alone  they  pass'd 
On  to  their  blissful  bower ;  it  was  a  place  690 

Chosen  by  the  sovereign  Planter,  when  he  framed 
All  things  to  man's  delightful  use ;  the  roof 
Of  thickest  covert  was  inwoven  shade 
Laurel  and  myrtle,  and  what  higher  grew 
Of  firm  and  fragrant  leaf;  on  either  side 
Acanthus,  and  each  odorous  bushy  shrub, 
Fenced  up  the  verdant  wall ;  each  beauteous  flower, 
Iris  all  hues,  roses,  and  jessamine, 

Rear'd  high  their  flourish'd  heads  between,  and  wrought 
Mosaic ;  underfoot  the  violet, 
Crocus,  and  hyacinth,  with  rich  inlay  701 


124  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  iv. 

BroiderM  tlie  ground,  more  color'd  than  with  stone 

Of  costliest  emblem :  other  creature  here, 

Beast,  bird,  insect,  or  worm,  durst  enter  none ; 

Such  was  their  awe  of  man.     In  shadier  bower, 

More  sacred  and  sequester'd,  though  but  feign'd, 

Pan  or  Sylvanus  never  slept,  nor  nymph, 

Nor  Faunus  haunted.     Here  in  close  recess, 

With  flowers,  garlands,  and  sweet-smelling  herbs, 

Espoused  Eve  deck'd  first  her  nuptial  bed, 

And  heavenly  quires  the  hymensean  sung,  711 

What  day  the  genial  angel  to  our  sire 

Brought  her,  in  naked  beauty  more  adorn'd, 

More  lovely  than  Pandora,  whom  the  gods 

Endow'd  with  all  their  gifts ;   and  oh,  too  like 

In  sad  event,  when  to  the  unwiser  son 

Of  Japhet,  brought  by  Hermes,  she  ensnared 

Mankind  with  her  fair  looks,  to  be  avenged 

On  him  who  had  stole  Jove's  authentic  fire. 

Thus,  at  their  shady  lodge  arrived,  both  stood, 
Both  turn'd,  and  under  open  sky  adored  721 

The  God  that  made  both  sky,  air,  earth,  and  heaven, 
"Which  they  beheld,  the  moon's  resplendent  globe, 
And  starry  pole :  "  Thou  also  mad'st  the  night, 
Maker  Omnipotent,  and  thou  the  day, 
"Which  we  in  our  appointed  work  employ'd 
Have  finish'd,  happy  in  our  mutual  help 
And  mutual  love,  the  crown  of  all  our  bliss 
Ordain'd  by  thee,  and  this  delicious  place 
For  us  too  large,  where  thy  abundance  wants 
Partakers,  and  uncropt  falls  to  the  ground. 
But  thou  hast  promised  from  us  two  a  race 
To  fill  the  earth,  who  shall  with  us  extol  733 

Thy  goodness  infinite,  both  when  we  wake, 
And  when  we  seek,  as  now,  thy  gift  of  sleep." 

This  said  unanimous,  and  other  rites 
Observing  none,  but  adoration  pure, 
Which  God  likes  best,  into  their  inmost  bower 
Handed  they  went ;  and,  eased  the  putting  off 
These  troublesome  disguises  which  we  wear, 
Straight  side  by  side  were  laid ;  nor  turn'd,  I  ween, 
Adam  from  his  fair  spouse,  nor  Eve  the  rites 
Mysterious  of  connubial  love  refused : 
Whatever  hypocrites  austerely  talk  744 


B.  IV.]  PARADISE    LOST.  125 

Of  purity,  and  place,  and  innocence, 

Defaming  as  impure  what  God  declares 

Pure,  and  commands  to  some,  leaves  free  to  aL. 

Our  Maker  bids  increase ;  who  bids  abstain 

But  our  destroyer,  foe  to  God  and  man? 

Hail,  wedded  love,  mysterious  law,  trie  source 

Of  human  offspring,  sole  propriety 

In  Paradise,  of  all  things  common  else ! 

By  thee  adulterous  lust  was  driven  from  men 

Among  the  bestial  herds  to  range ;  by  thee,  754 

Founded  in  reason,  loyal,  just,  and  pure, 

Relations  dear,  and  all  the  charities 

Of  father,  son,  and  brother,  first  were  known. 

Far  be  it  that  I  should  write  thee  sin  or  blame, 

Or  think  thee  unbefitting  holiest  place, 

Perpetual  fountain  of  domestic  sweets, 

Whose  bed  is  undefiled  and  chaste  pronounced, 

Present  or  past,  as  saints  and  patriarchs  used ! 

Here  love  his  golden  shafts  employs,  here  lights 

His  constant  lamp,  and  waves  his  purple  wings,          764 

Reigns  here  and  revels;  not  in  the  bought  smile 

Of  harlots,  loveless,  joyless,  unendear'd, 

Casual  fruition ;  nor  in  court  amours, 

Mix'd  dance,  or  wanton  mask,  or  midnight  ball, 

Or  serenade,  which  the  starved  lover  sings 

To  his  proud  fair,  best  quitted  with  disdain. 

These  lull'd  by  nightingales  embracing  slept, 

And  on  their  naked  limbs  the  flowery  roof 

Shower'd  roses,  which  the  morn  repair  d.     Sleep  on, 

Blest  pair ;  and  oh,  yet  happiest,  if  ye  seek 

No  happier  state,  and  know  to  know  no  more. 

ISTow  had  night  measured  with  her  shadowy  cone  776 
Half  way  up  hill  this  vast  sublunar  vault, 
And  from  their  ivory  port  the  cherubim, 
Forth  issuing  at  the  accustom'd  hour,  stood  arm'd 
To  their  night  watches  in  warlike  parade, 
AVhen  Gabriel  to  his  next  in  power  thus  spake : 

"  Uzziel,  half  these  draw  off,  and  coast  the  south 
With  strictest  watch ;  these  other  wheel  the  north ; 
Our  circuit  meets  full  west."    As  flame  they  part, 
Half  wheeling  to  the  shield,  half  to  the  spear. 
From  these,  two  strong  and  subtle  spirits  he  call'd 
That  near  him  stood,  and  gave  them  thus  in  charge :     787 


126  MILTON'S    POETICAL    WORKS.  \B.  TV. 

"  Ithuriel  and  Zephon,  with,  wing'd  speed 
Search  through  this  garden,  leave  unsearch'd  no  nook  ; 
But  chiefly  where  those  two  fair  creatures  lodge, 
Now  laid  perhaps  asleep,  secure  of  harm. 
This  evening  from  the  sun's  decline  arrived 
"Who  tells  of  some  infernal  spirit  seen 
Hitherward  bent,  (who  could  have  thought  ?)  escaped 
The  bars  of  Hell,  on  errand  bad  no  doubt : 
Such  where  ye  find,  seize  fast,  and  hither  bring.1" 

So  saying,  on  he  led  his  radiant  files,  Tl^ 

Dazzling  the  moon ;  these  to  the  bower  direct 
In  search  of  whom  they  sought:  him  there  they  foui  d 
Squat  like  a  toad,  close  at  the  ear  of  Eve, 
Assaying  by  his  devilish  art  to  reach 
The  organs  of  her  fancy,  and  with  them  forge 
Illusions  as  he  list,  phantasms  and  dreams ; 
Or  if,  inspiring  venom,  he  might  taint 
The  animal  spirits  that  from  pure  blood  arise 
Like  gentle  breaths  from  rivers  pure,  thence  raise 
At  least  distemper'd,  discontented  thoughts, 
Vain  hopes,  vain  aims,  inordinate  desires,  808 

Blown  up  with  high  conceits  engendering  pride. 
Him  thus  intent,  Ithuriel  with  his  spear 
Touch' d  lightly ;  for  no  falsehood  can  endure 
Touch  of  celestial  temper,  but  returns 
Of  force  to  its  own  likeness :  up  he  starts, 
Discover'd  and  surprised.     As  when  a  spark 
Lights  on  a  heap  of  nitrous  powder,  laid 
Fit  for  the  tun,  some  magazine  to  store 
Against  a  rumor'd  war,  the  smutty  grain 
"With  sudden  blaze  diffused  inflames  the  air : 
So  started  up  in  his  own  shape  the  fiend.  819 

Back  stepp'd  those  two  fair  angels,  half  amazed 
So  sudden  to  behold  the  grisly  king ; 
Yet  thus,  unmoved  with  fear,  accost  him  soon : 

"  Which  of  those  rebel  spirits  adjudged  to  Hell 
Coin'st  thou,  escaped  thy  prison  ?  and,  transformed, 
Why  satt'st  thou  like  an  enemy  in  wait, 
Bfere  watching  at  the  head  of  these  that  sleep  ?" 

"  Know  ye  not  then,"  said  Satan  fill'd  with  scorn, 
"  Know  ye  not  me  ?  ye  knew  me  once  no  mate 
For  you,  there  sitting  where  ye  durst  not  soar: 
Not  to  know  me*argues  yourselves  unknown,  830 


h.  IV. J  PARADISE    LOST.  127 

The  lowest  of  your  throng ;  or,  if  ye  know, 

Why  ask  ye,  and  superfluous  begin 

Your  message,  like  to  end  as  much  in  vain  ?" 

To  whom  thus  Zephon,  answering  scorn  with  scorn : 
"  Think  not,  revolted  spirit,  thy  shape  the  same, 
Or  undiminish'd  brightness  to  be  known, 
As  when  thou  stood'st  in  Heaven  upright  and  pure ; 
That  glory  then,  when  thou  no  more  wast  good, 
Departed  from  thee  ;  and  thou  resemblest  now 
Thy  sin  and  place  of  doom,  obscure  and  foul.  340 

But  come,  for  thou,  be  sure,  shalt  give  account 
To  him  who  sent  us,  whose  charge  is  to  keep        • 
This  place  inviolable,  and  these  from  harm." 

So  spake  the  cherub ;  and  his  grave  rebuke, 
Severe  in  youthful  beauty,  added  grace 
Invincible  :  abash'd  the  devil  stood, 
And  felt  how  awful  goodness  is,  and  saw 
Virtue  in  her  shape  how  lovely ;  saw,  and  pined 
His  loss  ;  but  chiefly  to  find  here  observed 
His  lustre  visibly  impaired ;  yet  seem'd 
Undaunted.     "If  I  must  contend,"  said  he,  851 

"Best  with  the  best,  the  sender  not  the  sent, 
Or  all  at  once ;  more  glory  will  be  won, 
Or  less  be  lost."     "  Thy  fear,"  said  Zephon  bold, 
"  "Will  save  us  trial  what  the  least  can  do 
Single  against  thee  wicked,  and  thence  weak." 

The  fiend  replied  not,  overcome  with  rage ; 
But  like  a  proud  steed  rein'd,  went  haughty  on, 
Champing  his  iron  curb :  to  strive  or  fly 
He  held  it  vain ;  awe  from  above  had  quell'd 
His  heart,  not  else  dismay'd.     Now  drew  they  nigh 
The  western  point,  where  those  half-rounding  guards   862 
Just  met,  and  closing  stood  in  squadron  join' d, 
Awaiting  next  command.     To  whom  their  chief, 
Gabriel,  from  the  front  thus  called  aloud : 

u  O  friends,  I  hear  the  tread  of  nimble  feet 
Hasting  this  way,  and  now  by  glimpse  discern 
Ithuriel  and  Zephon  through  the  shade, 
And  with  them  comes  a  third  of  regal  port, 
But  faded  splendor  wan ;  who,  by  his  gait 
And  fierce  demeanor,  seems  the  prince  of  Hell, 
Not  likely  to  part  hence  without  contest ; 
Stand  firm,  for  in  his  look  defiance  l<fwers."  873 


128  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  rv 

He  scarce  had  ended,  when  those  two  approached, 
And  brief  related  whom  they  brought,  where  found, 
How  busied,  in  what  form  and  posture  couch'd. 

To  whom  with  stern  regard  thus  Gabriel  spake : 
"  Why  hast  thou,  Satan,  broke  the  bounds  prescribed 
To  thy  transgressions,  and  disturbed  the  charge 
Of  others,  who  approve  not  to  transgress 
By  thy  example,  but  have  power  and  right 
To  question  thy  bold  entrance  on  this  place ; 
Einploy'd  it  seems  to  violate  sleep,  and  those  388 

Whose  dwelling  God  hath  planted  here  in  bliss  ?" 

To  whom  thus  Satan  with  contemptuous  brow : 
"  Gabriel,  thou  hadst  in  Heaven  the  esteem  of  wise, 
And  such  I  held  thee  ;  but  this  question  ask'd 
Puts  me  in  doubt.     Lives  there  who  loves  his  pain  ? 
Who  would  not,  finding  way,  break  loose  from  Hell, 
Though  thither  dooni'd  ?  Thou  wouldst  thyself,  no  doubt, 
And  boldly  venture  to  whatever  place 
Farthest  from  pain,  where  thou  mightst  hope  to  change 
Torment  with  ease,  and  soonest  recompense 
Dole  with  delight,  which  in  this  place  I  sought ;         894 
To  thee  no  reason,  who  know'st  only  good, 
But  evil  hast  not  tried ;  and  wilt  object 
His  will  who  bound  us  ?  let  him  surer  bar 
His  iron  gates,  if  he  intends  our  stay 
In  that  dark  durance :  thus  much  what  was  askM. 
The  rest  is  true,  they  found  me  where  they  say ; 
But  that  implies  not  violence  or  harm." 

Thus  he  in  scorn.     The  warlike  angel  moved, 
Disdainfully,  half  smiling,  thus  replied : 
"  0  loss  of  one  in  Heaven  to  judge  of  wise, 
Since  Satan  fell,  whom  folly  overthrew,  905 

And  now  returns  him  from  his  prison  'scaped, 
Gravely  in  doubt  whether  to  hold  them  wise, 
Or  not,  who  ask  what  boldness  brought  him  hither, 
Unlicensed,  from  his  bounds  in  Hell  prescribed ; 
So  wise  he  judges  it  to  fly  from  pain 
However,  and  to  'scape  his  punishment. 
So  judge  thou  still,  presumptuous,  till  the  wrath, 
Which  thou  incurr'st  by  flying,  meet  thy  flight 
Sevenfold,  and  scourge  that  wisdom  back  to  Hell, 
Which  taught  thee  yet  no  better,  that  no  pain 
Can  equal  anger  ftiiimte  provoked.  01 G 


B.  IV.]  PARADISE    LOST. 

But  wherefore  them  alone  ?  wherefore  with  thee 
Came  not  all  Hell  broke  loose  ?  is  pain,  to  them 
Less  pain,  less  to  be  fled  ?  or  thou  than  they 
Less  hardy  to  endure  ?    Courageous  chief, 
The  first  in  flight  from  pain,  hadst  thou  alleged 
To  thy  deserted  host  this  cause  of  flight, 
Thou  surely  hadst  not  come  sole  fugitive." 

To  which  the  fiend  thus  answer'd,  frowning  stern : 
"  ITot  that  I  less  endure,  or  shrink  from  pain, 
Insulting  angel :  well  thou  know'st  I  stood  026 

Thy  fiercest,  when  in  battle  to  thy  aid 
The  blasting  volleyed  thunder  made  all  speed, 
And  seconded  thy  else  not  dreaded  spear. 
But  still  thy  words  at  random,  as  before, 
Argue  thy  inexperience  what  behooves, 
From  hard  assays  and  ill  successes  past, 
A  faithful  leader,  not  to  hazard  all     • 
Through  ways  of  danger  by  himself  untried : 
I,  therefore,  I  alone  first  undertook 
To  wing  the  desolate  abyss,  and  spy 
This  new-created  world,  whereof  in  Hell  937 

Fame  is  not  silent,  here  in  hope  to  find 
Better  abode,  and  my  afflicted  powers 
To  settle  here  on  earth,  or  in  mid-air ; 
Though  for  possession  put  to  try  once  more 
What  thou  and  thy  gay  legions  dare  against ; 
Whose  easier  business  were  to  serve  their  Lord 
High  up  in  Heaven,  with  songs  to  hymn  his  throne, 
And  practised  distances  to  cringe,  not  fight." 

To  whom  the  warrior  angel  soon  replied : 
;t  To  say  and  straight  unsay,  pretending  first 
"Wise  to  fly  pain,  professing  next  the  spy,  948 

Argues  no  leader  but  a  liar  traced, 
Satan,  and  couldst  thou  faithful  add?    O  name, 
O  sacred  name  of  faithfulness  profaned } 
Faithful  to  whom  ?  to  thy  rebellious  crew  ? 
Army  of  fiends,  fit  body  to  fit  head. 
Was  this  your  discipline  and  faith  engaged, 
Your  military  obedience,  to  dissolve 
Allegiance  to  the  acknowledged  power  supreme  ? 
And  thou,  sly  hypocrite,  who  now  wouldst  seem 
Patron  of  liberty,  who  more  than  thou 
Once  fawn'd,  and  cringed,  and  servilely  adored  95(J 


130  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  iv. 

Heaven's  awful  Monarch  ?  wherefore,  but  in  hope 
To  dispossess  him,  and  thyself  to  reign? 
But  mark  what  I  arreed  the  now — Avaunt ; 
Fly  thither  whence  thou  fledst :  if  from  this  hour 
Within  these  hallow'd  limits  thou  appear, 
Back  to  the  infernal  pit  I  drag  thee  chain'd, 
And  seal  thee  so,  as  henceforth  not  to  scorn 
The  facile  gates  of  Hell  too  slightly  barr'd." 

So  threatened  he ;  hut  Satan  to  no  threats  06£ 

Gave  heed,  but,  waxing  more  in  rage,  replied : 

"  Then  when  I  am  thy  captive  talk  of  chains, 
Proud  limitary  cherub !  but  ere  then 
Far  heavier  load  thyself  expect  to  feel 
From  my  prevailing  arm,  though  Heaven's  King 
Eide  on  thy  wings,  and  thou  with  thy  compeers, 
Used  to  the  yoke,  draw'st  his  triumphant  wheels 
In  progress  through  the  road  of  Heaven  star-paved." 

While  thus  he  spake,  the  angelic  squadron  bright 
Turn'd  fiery  red,  sharpening  in  mooned  horns 
Their  phalanx,  and  began  to  hem  him  round 
With  ported  spears,  as  thick  as  when  a  field  980 

Of  Ceres  ripe  for  harvest  waving  bends 
Her  bearded  grove  of  ears,  which  way  the  wind 
Sways  them ;  the  careful  ploughman  doubting  stands, 
Lest  on  the  threshing-floor  his  hopeful  sheaves 
Prove  chaff.     On  the  other  side,  Satan  alarm'd, 
Collecting  all  his  might,  dilated  stood, 
Like  Teneriffe  or  Atlas  unremoved : 
His  stature  reach'd  the  sky,  and  on  his  crest 
Sat  horror  plumed ;  nor  wanted  in  his  grasp 
What  seem'd  both  spear  and  shield.  Now  dreadful  deeds 
Might  have  ensued,  nor  only  Paradise  991 

In  this  commotion,  but  the  starry  cope 
Of  Heaven  perhaps,  or  all  the  elements, 
At  least,  had  gone  to  wrack,  disturbed  and  torn 
With  violence  of  this  conflict,  had  not  soon 
The  Eternal,  to  prevent  such  horrid  fray, 
Hung  forth  in  Heaven  his  golden  scales,  yet  seen 
Betwixt  Astrea  and  the  Scorpion  sign, 
Wherein  all  things  created  first  he  weigh'd, 
The  pendulous  round  earth  with  balanced  air 
In  counterpoise ;  now  ponders  all  events, 
Battles  and  realms :  in  these  he  put  two  weights,      1002 


B.  IV.]  PARADISE    LOST.       .  131 

The  sequel  each  of  parting  and  of  fight : 

The  latter  quick  up  flew,  and  kicked  the  beam ; 

Which  Gabriel  spying,  thus  bespake  the  fiend : 

"  Satan,  I  know  thy  strength,  and  thou  know'st  mine, 
Neither  our  own,  but  given ;  what  folly  then 
To  boast  what  arms  can  do,  since  thine  no  more 
Than  Heaven  permits,  nor  mine,  though  doubled  now 
To  trample  thee  as  mire :  for  proof  look  up, 
And  read  thy  lot  in  yon  celestial  sign,  11 11 

Where  thou  art  weigh'd,  and  shown  how  light,  how  weak. 
If  thou  resist."    The  fiend  look'd  up,  and  knew 
His  mounted  scale  aloft :  nor  more ;  but  fled 
Mnrmuring,  and  with  him  fled  the  shades  of  night. 


PARADISE    LOST. 


BOOK  V. 

THE   ARGUMENT. 

Morning  approached,  Eve  relates  to  Adam  her  troublesome  dream;  he  Ikes  it  not, 
yet  comforts  her.  They  come  forth  to  their  day  labors  :  their  morning  hymn  al 
the  door  of  their  bower.  God,  to  render  man  inexcusable,  sends  Raphael  to  ad- 
monish him  of  his  obedience  ;  of  his  free  estate  ;  of  his  enemy  near  at  hand,  who 
he  is,  and  why  his  enemy  ;  and  whatever  else  may  avail  Adam  to  know.  Raphae 
comes  down  to  Paradise  ;  his  appearance  described ;  his  coming  discerned  by 
Adam  afar  off  sitting  at  the  door  of  his  bower :  he  goes  out  to  meet  him,  brings 
him  to  his  lodge,  entertains  him  with  the  choicest  fruits  of  Paradise  got  together 
by  Eve ;  their  discourse  at  table.  Raphael  performs  his  message,  minds  Adam 
of  his  state  and  of  his  enemy  ;  relates,  at  Adam's  request,  who  that  enemy  is,  and 
how  he  came  to  be  so,  beginning  from  his  first  revolt  in  Heaven,  and  the  occa- 
sion thereof;  how  he  drew  his  legions  after  him  to  the  parts  of  the  north,  and 
there  incited  them  to  rebel  with  him,  persuading  all  but  only  Abdiel,  a  seraph, 
who  in  argument  dissuades  and  opposes  him,  then  forsakes  him. 

Now  morn  her  rosy  steps  in  the  eastern  clime 

Advancing,  sow'd  the  earth  with  orient,  pearl, 

When  Adam  waked,  so  custom'd,  for  his  sleep 

Was  airy  light  from  pure  digestion  hred, 

And  temperate  vapors  "bland,  which  the  only  sound 

Of  leaves  and  fuming  rills,  Aurora's  fan, 

Lightly  dispersed,  and  the  shrill  matin  song 

Of  birds  on  every  bough ;  so  much  the  more  8 

His  wonder  was  to  find  unwaken'd  Eve 

"With  tresses  discomposed,  and  glowing  cheek, 

As  through  unquiet  rest :  he  on  his  side 

Leaning,  half  raised,  with  looks  of  cordial  love, 

Hung  over  her  enamored,  and  beheld 

Beauty,  which,  whether  waking  or  asleep, 

Shot  forth  peculiar  graces ;  then,  with  voice 

Mild  as  when  Zephyrus  on  Flora  breathes, 

Her  hand  soft  touching,  whisper'd  thus:  "Awake, 

My  fairest,  my  espoused,  my  latest  found, 

Heaven's  last  best  gift,  my  ever-new  delight,  10 


B.  V.J  PARADISE    LOST.  138 

Awake ;  the  morning  shines,  and  the  fresh  field 
Calls  us ;  we  lose  the  prime,  to  mark  how  spring 
Our  tended  plants,  how  blows  the  citron  grove, 
What  drops  the  myrrh,  and  what  the  balmy  reed, 
How  nature  paints  her  colors,  how  the  bee 
Sits  on  the  bloom  extracting  liquid  sweet." 

Such  whispering  waked  her,  but  with  startled  eye 
On  Adam,  whom  embracing,  thus  she  spake : 

"  O  sole,  in  whom  my  thoughts  find  all  repc  se, 
My  glory,  my  perfection,  glad  I  see  2f 

Thy  face,  and  morn  returned;  for  I  this  night 
(Such  night  till  this  I  never  pass'd)  have  dream'd, 
If  dream'd,  not  as  I  oft  am  wont,  of  thee, 
Works  of  day  past,  or  morrow's  next  design, 
But  of  offence  and  trouble,  which  nay  mind 
Knew  never  till  this  irksome  night.     Methought 
Close  at  mine  ear  one  call'd  me  forth  to  walk 
With  gentle  voice — I  thought  it  thine ;  it  said, 
4  Why  sleep'st  thou,  Eve  ?  now  is  the  pleasant  time, 
The  cool,  the  silent,  save  where  silence  yields 
To  the  night- warbling  bird,  that  now  awake  40 

Tunes  sweetest  his  love-labor'd  song;  now  reigns 
Full  orb'd  the  moon,  and  with  more  pleasing  light 
Shadowy  sets  off  the  face  of  things ;  in  vain, 
If  none  regard ;  Heaven  wakes  with  all  his  eyes, 
Whom  to  behold  but  thee,  Nature's  desire  ? 
In  whose  sight  all  things  joy,  with  ravishment 
Attracted  by  thy  beauty  still  to  gaze.' 
I  rose  as  at  thy  call,  but  found  thee  not : 
To  find  thee  I  directed  then  my  walk ; 
And  on,  methought,  alone  I  pass'd  through  ways 
That  brought  me  on  a  sudden  to  the  tree  51 

Of  interdicted  knowledge  :  fair  it  seem'd, 
Much  fairer  to  my  fancy  than  by  day ; 
And,  as  I  wondering  look'd,  beside  it  stood 
One  shaped  and  wing'd  like  one  of  those  from  Heaven 
By  us  oft  seen ;  his  dewy  locks  distill'd 
Ambrosia ;  on  that  tree  he  also  gazed ; 
And  '  O  fair  plant,7  said  he,  '  with  fruit  surcharged, 
Deigns  none  to  ease  thy  load  and  taste  thy  sweet, 
Nor  God,  nor  man  ?  is  knowledge  so  despised  ? 
Or  envy,  or  what  reserve,  forbids  to  taste  ? 
Forbid  rfrho  will,  none  shall  from  me  withhold  62 

12 


134  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  v, 

Longer  thy  offered  good ;  why  else  set  here  ?' 

This  said,  he  paused  not,  but  with  venturous  arm 

He  pluck^,  he  tasted :  me  damp  horror  chill'd 

At  such  hold  words,  vouch'd  with  a  deed  so  hold : 

But  he  thus,  overjoy'd  :  c  0  fruit  divine, 

Sweet  of  thyself,  hut  much  more  sweet  thus  cropt ; 

Forbidden  here,  it  seems,  as  only  fit 

For  gods,  yet  able  to  make  gods  of  men : 

And  why  not  gods  of  men,  since  good,  the  more 

Communicated,  more  abundant  grows,  72 

The  Author  not  impaired,  but  honor'd  more? 

Here,  happy  creature,  fair  angelic  Eve, 

Partake  thou  also ;  happy  though  thou  art, 

Happier  thou  mayst  be,  worthier  canst  not  be : 

Taste  this,  and -be  henceforth  among  the  gods, 

Thyself  a  goddess,  not  to  earth  confined, 

But  sometimes  in  the  air,  as  we ;  sometimes 

Ascend  to  Heaven,  by  merit  thine,  and  see 

"What  life  the  gods  live  there,  and  such  live  thou.' 

So  saying,  he  drew  nigh,  and  to  me  held, 

Even  to  my  mouth  of  that  same  fruit  held  part  83 

"Which  he  had  pluck'd ;  the  pleasant  savory  smell 

So  quicken'd  appetite,  that  I,  methought, 

Could  not  but  taste.     Forthwith  up  to  the  clouds 

With  him  I  flew,  and  underneath  beheld 

The  earth  outstretch'd  immense,  a  prospect  wide 

And  various :  wondering  at  my  flight  and  change 

To  this  high  exaltation,  suddenly 

My  guide  was  gone,  and  I,  methought,  sunk  down, 

And  fell  asleep ;  but  oh,  how  glad  I  waked 

To  find  this  but  a  dream !"     Thus  Eve  her  night 

Related,  and  thus  Adam  answer'd  sad :  94 

"  Best  image  of  myself  and  dearer  half, 
The  trouble  of  thy  thoughts  this  night  in  sleep 
Affects  me  equally ;  nor  can  I  like 
This  uncouth  dream,  of  evil  sprung,  I  fear ; 
Yet  evil  whence  ?  in  thee  can  harbor  none. 
Created  pure.     But  know  that  in  the  soul 
Are  many  lesser  faculties,  that  serve 
Reason  as  chief;  among  these  fancy  next 
Her  office  holds;  of  all  external  things, 
Which  the  five  watchful  senses  represent, 
She  forms  imaginations,  airy  shapes,  105 


B.  V.J  PARADISE    LOST.  135 

"Which  reason,  joining  or  disjoining,  frames 

All  what  we  affirm  or  what  deny,  and  call 

Our  knowledge  or  opinion ;  then  retires 

Into  her  private  cell  when  nature  rests. 

Oft  in  her  absence  mimic  fancy  wakes 

To  imitate  her ;  but  misjoining  shapes, 

Wild  work  produces  oft,  and  most  in  dreams, 

Ill-matching  words  and  deeds  long  past  or  late. 

Some  such  resemblances  methinks  I  find 

Of  our  last  evening's  talk  in  this  thy  dream,  115 

But  with  addition  strange ;  yet  be  not  sad. 

Evil  into  the  mind  of  God  or  man 

May  come  and  go,  so  unapproved,  and  leave 

No  spot  or  blame  behind :  which  gives  me  hope, 

That  what  in  sleep  thou  didst  abhor  to  dream, 

Waking  thou  never  wilt  consent  to  do. 

Be  not  dishearten'd  then,  nor  cloud  those  looks, 

That  wont  to  be  more  cheerful  and  serene, 

Than  when  fair  morning  first  smiles  on  the  world ; 

And  let  us  to  our  fresh  employments  rise 

Among  the  groves,  the  fountains,  and  the  flowers,      1U6 

That  open  now  their  choicest  bosom'd  smells, 

Reserved  from  night,  and  kept  for  thee  in  store." 

So  cheer'd  he  his  fair  spouse,  and  she  was  cheer'd, 
But  silently  a  gentle  tear  let  fall 
From  either  eye,  and  wiped  them  with  her  hair ; 
Two  other  precious  drops  that  ready  stood, 
Each  in  their  crystal  sluice,  he  ere  they  fell 
•  Kiss'd,  as  the  gracious  signs  of  sweet  remorse 
And  pious  awe,  that  fear'd  to  have  offended. 

So  all  was  cleared,  and  to  the  field  they  haste. 
But  first,  from  under  shady  arbor ous  roof,  137 

Soon  as  they  forth  were  come  to  open  sight 
Of  day-spring,  and  the  sun,  who  scarce  up  risen, 
With  wheels  yet  hovering  o'er  the  ocean  brim, 
Shot  parallel  to  the  earth  his  dewy  ray, 
Discovering  in  wide  landscape  all  the  east 
Of  Paradise  and  Eden's  happy  plains, 
Lowly  they  bow'd  adoring,  and  began 
Their  orisons,  each  morning  duly  paid 
In  various  style ;  for  neither  various  style 
Nor  holy  rapture  wanted  they  to  praise 
Their  Maker,  in  fit  strains  pronounced  or  sung  148 


MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  IB.  v 

Unmeditated,  such  prompt  eloquence 

Flow'd  from  their  lips,  in  prose  or  numerous  verse, 

More  tunable  than  needed  lute  or  harp 

To  add  more  sweetness ;  and  they  thus  began : 

"  These  are  thy  glorious  works,  Parent  of  good, 
Almighty,  thine  this  universal  frame, 
Thus  wondrous  fair ;  thyself  how  wondrous  then ! 
Unspeakable,  who  sitt'st  above  these  Heavens 
To  us  invisible,  or  dimly  seen 

In  these  thy  lowest  works ;  yet  these  declare  155 

Thy  goodness  beyond  thought,  and  power  divine. 
Speak,  ye  who  best  can  tell,  ye  sons  of  light. 
Angels ;  for  ye  behold  him,  and  with  songs 
And  choral  symphonies,  day  without  night, 
Circle  his  throne  rejoicing;  ye  in  Heaven  : 
On  earth,  join  all  ye  creatures  to  extol 
Him  first,  him  last,  him  midst,  and  without  end, 
Fairest  of  stars,  last  in  the  train  of  night, 
If  better  thou  belong  not  to  the  dawn, 
Sure  pledge  of  day,  that  crown'st  the  smiling  morn 
"With,  thy  bright  circlet,  praise  him  in  thy  sphere,       169 
While  day  arises,  that  sweet  hour  of  prime. 
Thou  sun,  of  this  great  world  both  eye  and  soul, 
Acknowledge  him  thy  greater,  sound  his  praise 
In  thy  eternal  course,  both  when  thou  climb'st, 
And  when  high  noon  hast  gain'd,  and  when  thou  fall'st. 
Moon,  that  now  meets  the  orient  sun,  now  fliest, 
With  the  fix'd  stars,  fix'd  in  their  orb  that  flies, 
And  ye  five  other  wandering  fires  that  move 
In  mystic  dance,  not  without  song,  resound 
His  praise,  who  out  of  darkness  call'd  up  light. 
Air,  and  ye  elements,  the  eldest  birth  180 

Of  nature's  womb,  that  in  quaternion  run 
Perpetual  circle,  multiform,  and  mix 
And  nourish  all  things,  let  your  ceaseless  change 
Vary  to  our  great  Maker  still  new  praise. 
Ye  mists  and  exhalations,  that  now  rise 
From  hill  or  steaming  lake,  dusky  or  gray, 
Till  the  sun  paint  your  fleecy  skirts  with  gold, 
In  honor  to  the  world's  great  Author  rise, 
Whether  to  deck  with  clouds  the  uncolor'd  sky, 
Or  wet  the  thirsty  earth  with  falling  showers, 
Rising  or  falling  still  advance  his  praise.  191 


3    V.]  PARADISE    LOST.  137 

His  praise,  ye  winds,  that  from  four  quarters  blow, 

Breathe  soft  or  loud ;  and  wave  your  tops,  ye  pines, 

With  every  plant,  in  sign  of  worship  wave. 

Fountains,  and  ye  that  warble  as  ye  flow 

Melodious  murmurs,  warbling  tune  his  praise. 

Join  voices  all,  ye  living  souls ;  ye  birds, 

That  singing  up  to  Heaven-gate  ascend, 

Bear  on  your  wings  and  in  your  notes  his  praise. 

Ye  that  in  waters  glide,  and  ye  that  walk 

The  earth,  and  stately  tread,  or  lowly  creep,  201 

Witness  if  I  be  silent,  morn  or  even, 

To  hill  or  valley,  fountain  or  fresh  shade, 

Made  vocal  by  my  song,  and  taught  his  praise. 

Hail,  universal  Lord !  be  bounteous  still 

To  give  us  only  good ;  and  if  the  night 

Have  gather'd  aught  of  evil  or  conceal'd, 

Disperse  it,  as  now  light  dispels  the  dark." 

So  pray'd  they  innocent,  and  to  their  thoughts 
Firm  peace  recover'd  soon  and  woiited  calm. 
On  to  their  morning's  rural  work  they  haste 
Among  sweet  dews  and  flowers ;  where  any  row        212 
Of  fruit-trees,  over-woody,  reach'd  too  far 
Their  pamper'd  boughs,  and  needed  hands  to  check 
Fruitless  embraces :  or  they  led  the  vine 
To  wed  her  elms  ;  she,  spoused,  about  him  twines 
Her  marriageable  arms,  and  with  her  brings 
Her  dower,  the  adopted  clusters,  to  adorn 
His  barren  leaves.     Them  thus  employed  beheld 
With  pity  Heaven's  high  King,  and  to  him  call'd 
Eaphael,  the  sociable  spirit,  that  deign'd 
To  travel  with  Tobias,  and  secured 
His  marriage  with  the  seventirnes-wedded  maid.         228 

u  Baphael,"  said  he,  "  thou  hear'st  what  stir  on  earth 
Satan  from  Hell,  'scaped  through  the  darksome  gulf, 
Hath  raised  in  Paradise,  and  how  disturb'd 
This  night  the  human  pair ;  how  he  designs 
In  them  at  once  to  ruin  all  mankind. 
Go,  therefore,  half  this  day,  as  friend  with  friend 
Converse  with  Adam,  in  what  bower  or  shade 
Thou  find'st  him  from  the  heat  of  noon  retired, 
To  respite  his  day -lab  or  with  repast, 
Or  with  repose ;  and  such  discourse  bring  on, 
As  may  advise  him  of  his  happy  state,  234 


138       *  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  \> 

Happiness  in  his  power  left  free  to  will, 

Left  to  his  own  free  will — his  will  though  free, 

Yet  mutable ;  whence  warn  him  to  beware 

He  swerve  not,  too  secure :  tell  him  withal 

His  danger,  and  from  whom ;  what  enemy, 

Late  fallen  himself  from  Heaven,  is  plotting  now 

The  fall  of  others  from  like  state  of  bliss : 

By  violence  ?  no,  for  that  shall  be  withstood ; 

But  by  deceit  and  lies :  this  let  him  know, 

Lest  wilfully  transgressing  he  pretend  244 

Surprisal,  unadmonishM,  unforewarn'd." 

So  spake  the  eternal  Father,  and  fulfilled 
All  justice :  nor  delay'd  the  winged  saint 
After  his  charge  received ;  but  from  among 
Thousand  celestial  ardors,  where  he  stood 
Yeil'd  with  his  gorgeous  wings,  up  springing  light, 
Flew  through  the  midst  of  Heaven ;  the  angelic  quires, 
.  On  each  hand  parting,  to  his  speed  gave  way 
Through  all  the  empyreal  road ;  till  at  the  gate 
Of  Heaven  arrived,  the  gate  self-open'd  wide, 
On  golden  hinges  turning,  as  by  work  255 

Divine  the  sovereign  Architect  had  framed. 
From  hence  no  cloud,  or,  to  obstruct  his  sight, 
Star  interposed,  however  small  he  sees, 
Not  unconform  to  other  shining  globes, 
Earth  and  the  garden  of  God,  with  cedars  crown'd 
Above  all  hills.     As  when  by  night  the  glass 
Of  Galileo,  less  assured,  observes 
Imagined  lands  and  regions  in  the  moon ; 
Or  pilot,  from  amidst  the  Cyclades, 
Delos  or  Samos  first  appearing,  kens 
A  cloudy  spot.  •  Down  thither  prone  in  flight  200 

He  speeds,  and  through  the  vast  ethereal  sky 
Sails  between  worlds  and  worlds,  with  steady  wing, 
Now  on  the  polar  winds,  then  with  quick  fan 
Winnows  the  buxom  air ;  till,  within  soar 
Of  towering  eagles,  to  all  the  fowls  he  seems 
A  Phoenix,  gazed  by  all,  as  that  sole  bird, 
When,  to  inshrine  his  relics  in  the  sun's 
Bright  temple,  to  Egyptian  Thebes  he  flies. 
At  once  on  the  eastern  cliff  of  Paradise 
He  lights,  and  to  his  proper  shape  returns 
A  seraph  wing'd;  six  wings  he  wore,  to  shade  277 


V.I  PARADISE    LOST.  139 

His  lineaments  divine;  the  pair  that  clad 

Each  shoulder  broad,  came  mantling  o'er  his  bieast 

"With  regal  ornament ;  the  middle  pair  * 

Girt  like  a  starry  zone  his  waist,  and  round 

Skirted  his  loins  and  thighs  with  downy  gold 

And  colors  dipt  in  Heaven ;  the  third  his  feet 

Shadow'd  from  either  heel  with  feathered  mail, 

Sky -tinctured  grain.    Like  Maia's  son  he  stood, 

And  shook  his  plumes,  that  heavenly  fragrance  fill'd 

The  circuit  wide.     Straight  knew  him  all  the  bands   287 

Of  angels  under  watch  ;  and  to  his  state, 

And  to  his  message  high,  in  honor  rise ; 

For  on  some  message  high  they  guess'd  him  bound. 

Their  glittering  tents  he  pass'd,  and  now  is  come 

Into  the  blissful  field,  through  groves  of  myrrh, 

And  flowering  odors,  cassia,  nard,  and  balm ; 

A  wilderness  of  sweets ;  for  Nature  here 

Wanton'd  as  in  her  prime,  and  play'd  at  will 

Her  virgin  fancies,  pouring  forth  more  sweet, 

Wild  above  rule  or  art ;  enormous  bliss. 

Him,  through  the  spicy  forest  onward  come,  298 

Adam  discern'd,  as  in  the  door  he  sat 

Of  his  cool  bower,  while  now  the  mounted  sun 

Shot  down  direct  his  fervid  rays  to  warm 

Earth's  inmost  womb,  more  warmth  than  Adam  needs : 

And  Eve  within,  due  at  her  hour  prepared 

For  dinner  savory  fruits,  of  taste  to  please 

True  appetite,  and  not  disrelish  thirst 

Of  nectarous  draughts  between,  from  milky  stream, 

Berry  or  grape ;  to  whom  thus  Adam  call'd : 

u  Haste  hither,  Eve,  and,  worth  thy  sight,  behold, 
Eastward  among  those  trees,  what  glorious  shape       300 
Comes  this  way  moving ;  seems  another  morn 
Eisen  on  mid-noon ;  some  great  behest  from  Heaven 
To  us  perhaps  he  brings,  and  will  vouchsafe 
This  day  to  be  our  guest.     But  go  with  speed, 
And  what  thy  stores  contain  bring  forth,  and  pour 
Abundance,  fit  to  honor  and  receive 
Our  heavenly  stranger :  well  we  may  afford 
Our  givers  their  own  gifts,  and  large  bestow 
From  large  bestow'd,  where  Nature  multiplies 
Her  fertile  growth,  and  by  disburdening  grows 
More  fruitful,  which  instructs  us  not  to  spare."  320 


140  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  T 

To  whom  thus  Eve :  "  Adam,  earth's  hallow VI  mould, 
Of  God  inspired,  small  store  will  serve,  where  store, 
All  seasons,  ripe  for  use  hangs  on  the  stalk  • 
Save  what  by  frugal  storing  firmness  gains 
To  nourish,  and  superfluous  moist  consumes : 
But  I  will  haste,  and  from  each  hough  and  brake, 
Each  plant  and  juiciest  gourd,  will  pluck  such  choice 
To  entertain  our  angel  guest,  as  he 
Beholding  shall  confess,  that  here  on  Earth 
God  hath  dispensed  his  bounties  as  in  Heaven."          330 

So  saying,  with  dispatchful  looks  in  haste 
She  turns,  on  hospitable  thoughts  intent 
What  choice  to  choose  for  delicacy  best, 
What  order,  so  contrived  as  not  to  mix 
Tastes,  not  well  join'd,  inelegant,  but  bring 
Taste  after  taste  upheld  with  kindliest  change ; 
Bestirs  her  then,  and  from  each  tender  stalk 
"Whatever  earth,  all-bearing  mother,  yields 
In  India  East  or  West,  or  middle  shore 
In  Pontus  or  the  Punic  coast,  or  where 
Alcinous  reign'd,  fruit  of  all  kinds,  in  coat  341 

Rough  or  smooth  rind,  or  bearded  husk,  or  shell, 
She  gathers,  tribute  large,  and  on  the  board 
Heaps  with  unsparing  hand ;  for  drink  the  grape 
She  crushes,  inoifensive  must,  and  meaths 
From  many  a  berry ;  and  from  sweet  kernels  pressed 
She  tempers  dulcet  creams ;  nor  these  to  hold 
Wants  her  fit  vessels  pure ;  then  strews  the  ground 
With  rose  and  odors  from  the  shrub  unfumed. 

Meanwhile  our  primitive  great  sire,  to  meet 
His  godlike  guest,  walks  forth,  without  more  train 
Accompanied  than  with  his  own  complete  352 

Perfections :  in  himself  was  all  his  state, 
More  solemn  than  the  tedious  pomp  that  waits 
On  princes,  when  their  rich  retinue  long 
Of  horses  led,  and  grooms  besmear'd  with  gold, 
Dazzles  the  crowd,  and  sets  them  all  agape. 
Nearer  his  presence  Adam,  though  not  awed, 
Yet  with  submiss  approach  and  reverence  meek, 
As  to  a  superior  nature,  bowing  low, 
Thus  said :  "  Native  of  Heaven,  for  other  place 
Xoue  can  than  Heaven  such  glorious  shape  contain ; 
Since,  by  descending  from  the  thrones  above,  363 


.  V.]  PARADISE    LOST.  141 

Those  happy  places  thoti  hast  deignM  a  vrhile 
To  want,  and  honor  these,  vouchsafe  with  us 
Two  only,  who  yet  by  sovereign  gift  possess 
This  spacious  ground,  in  yonder  shady  bower 
To  rest,  and  what  the  garden  choicest  bears 
To  sit  and  taste,  till  this  meridian  heat 
Be  over,  and  the  sun  more  cool  declined' 

Whom  thus  the  angelic  virtue  answered  mild : 
u  Adam,  I  therefore  came,  nor  art  thou  such 
Created,  or  such  place  hast  here  to  dwell,  373 

As  may  not  oft  invite,  though  spirits  of  Heaven, 
To  visit  thee :  lead  on  then  where  thy  bower 
O'ershades ;  for  these  mid-hours,  till  evening  rise, 
I  have  at  will."     80  to  the  sylvan  lodge 
They  came,  that  like  Pomona's  arbor  smiled 
With  flowerets  decked  and  fragrant  smells;  but  Ev<, 
TJndeck'd  save  with  herself,  more  lovely  fair 
Than  wood-nymph,  or  the  fairest  goddess  feign'd 
Of  three  that  in  mount  Ida  naked  strove, 
Stood  to  entertain  her  guest  from  Heaven:  no  veil 
She  needed,  virtue  proof;  no  thought  infirm  384 

Altered  her  cheek.     On  whom  the  angel  "Hail1' 
Bestow'd,  the  holy  salutation  used 
Long  after  to  blest  Mary,  second  Eve. 

"  Hail,  mother  of  mankind !  whose  fruitful  womb 
Shall  fill  the  world  more  numerous  with  thy  sons, 
Than  with  these  various  fruits  the  trees  of  God 
Have  heaped  this  table."    Raised  of  grassy  turf 
Their  table  was,  and  mossy  seats  had  round, 
And  on  her  ample  square  from  side  to  side 
All  autumn  piled,  though  spring  and  autumn  here 
Danced  hand  in  hand.  Awhile  discourse  they  hold;  305 
No  fear  lest  dinner  cool ;  when  thus  began 
Our  author :  u  Heavenly  stranger,  please  to  taste 
These  bounties,  which  our  INourisher,  from  whom 
All  perfect  good,  unmeasured  out,  descends, 
To  us  for  food  and  for  delight  hath  caused 
The  earth  to  yield ;  unsavory  food  perhaps 
To  spiritual  natures ;  only  this  I  know, 
That  one  celestial  Father  gives  to  all." 

To  whom  the  angel :  "Therefore  what  he  gives 
(Whose  praise  be  ever  sung)  to  man  in  part 
Spiritual,  may  of  purest  spirits  be  found  406 


142  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [u.  v. 

No  ingrateful  food :  and  food  alike  those  pure 

Intelligential  substances  require, 

As  doth  your  rational ;  and  both  contain 

"Within  them  every  lower  faculty 

Of  sense,  whereby  they  hear,  see,  smell,  touch,  taste, 

Tasting  concoct,  digest,  assimilate, 

And  corporeal  to  incorporeal  turn. 

For  know,  whatever  was  created,  needs 

To  be  sustain'd  and  fed ;  of  elements 

The  grosser  feeds  the  purer,  earth  the  sea,  410 

Earth  and  the  sea  feed  air,  the  air  those  fires 

Ethereal,  and,  as  lowest,  first  the  moon ; 

"Whence  in  her  visage  round  those  spots,  unpurged 

Vapors  not  yet  into  her  substance  turn'd. 

Nor  doth  the  moon  no  nourishment  exhale 

From  her  moist  continent  to  higher  orbs. 

The  sun,  that  light  imparts  to  all,  receives 

From  all  his  alimental  recompense 

In  humid  exhalations,  and  at  even 

Sups  with  the  ocean.     Though  in  Heaven  the  trees 

Of  life  ambrosial  fruitage  bear,  and  vines  427 

Yield  nectar ;  though  from  off  the  boughs  each  morn 

"We  brush  mellifluous  dews,  and  find  the  ground 

Cover'd  with  pearly  grain :  yet  God  hath  here 

Varied  his  bounty  so  with  new  delights, 

As  may  compare  with  Heaven :    and  to  taste 

Think  not  I  shall  be  nice."    So  down  they  sat, 

And  to  their  viands  fell ;  nor  seemingly 

The  angel,  nor  in  mist,  the  common  gloss 

Of  theologians,  but  with  keen  dispatch 

Of  real  hunger,  and  concoctive  heat 

To  transubstantiate :  what  redounds,  transpires          438 

Through  spirits  with  ease ;  nor  wonder  if,  by  fire 

Of  sooty  coal,  the  empiric  alchemist 

Can  turn,  or  holds  it  possible  to  turn, 

Metals  of  drossiest  ore  to  perfect  gold 

As  from  the  mine.     Meanwhile  at  table  Eve 

Minister'd  naked,  and  their  flowing  cups 

With  pleasant  liquors  crown'd.     0  innocence 

Deserving  Paradise !  if  ever,  then, 

Then  had  the  sons  of  God  excuse  to  have  been 

Enamor'd  at  that  sight :  but  in  those  hearts 

Love  unlibidinous  reign'd,  nor  jealousv  449 


B.  V.]  PARADISE    LOST.  143 

Was  understood,  the  injured  lover's  hell. 

Thus,  when  with  meats  and  drinks  they  had  sufficed, 
Not  burden'd  nature,  sudden  mind  arose 
In  Adam  not  to  let  the  occasion  pass, 
Given  him  hy  this  great  conference,  to  know 
Of  things  above  his  world,  and  of  their  being 
Who  dwell  in  Heaven,  whose  excellence  he  saw 
Transcend  his  own  so  far,  whose  radiant  forms, 
Divine  effulgence,  whose  high  power  so  far 
Exceeded  human,  and  his  wary  speech  459 

Thus  to  the  empyreal  minister  he  framed : 

"  Inhabitant  with  God,  now  know  I  well 
Thy  favor,  in  this  honor  done  to  man, 
Under  whose  lowly  roof  thou  hast  vouchsafed 
To  enter,  and  these  earthly  fruits  to  taste, 
Food  not  of  angels,  yet  accepted  so, 
A.S  that  more  willingly  thou  couldst  not  seem 
At  Heaven's  high  feasts  to  have  fed :  yet  what  compare  ?" 

To  whom  the  winged  hierarch  replied : 
"  O  Adam,  one  Almighty  is,  from  whom 
All  things  proceed,  and  up  to  him  return,  470 

If  not  depraved  from  good,  created  all 
Such  to  perfection,  one  first  matter  all, 
Endued  with  various  forms,  various  degrees 
Of  substance,  and,  in  things  that  live,  of  life ; 
But  more  refined,  more  spirituous,  and  pure, 
As  nearer  to  him  placed,  or  nearer  tending, 
Each  in  their  several  active  spheres  assigned, 
Till  body  up  to  spirit  work,  in  bounds 
Proportion'd  to  each  kind.     So  from  the  root 
Springs  lighter  the  green  stalk,  from  thence  the  leaves 
More  airy,  last  the  bright  consummate  flower  481 

Spirits  odorous  breathes :  flowers  and  their  fruit, 
Man's  nourishment,  by  gradual  scale  sublimed, 
To  vital  spirits  aspire,  to  animal, 
To  intellectual ;  give  both  life  and  sense, 
Fancy  and  understanding;  whence  the  soul  . 
Reason  receives,  and  reason  is  her  being, 
Discursive,  or  intuitive ;  discourse 
Is  oftest  yours,  the  latter  most  is  ours, 
Differing  but  in  degree,  of  kind  the  same. 
Wonder  not,  then,  what  God  for  you  saw  good 
If  I  refuse  not,  but  convert,  as  you,  492 


144  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  T 

To  proper  substance :  time  may  come,  when  men 

With  angels  may  participate,  and  iind 

!N"o  inconvenient  diet,  nor  too  light  fare ; 

And  from  these  corporal  nutriments  perhaps 

Your  bodies  may  at  last  turn  all  to  spirit, 

Improved  by  tract  of  time,  and  wingM  ascend 

Ethereal,  as  we,  or  may  at  choice 

Here  or  in  heavenly  Paradises  dwell ; 

If  ye  be  found  obedient,  and  retain 

Unalterably  firm  his  love  entire,  502 

Whose  progeny  you  are.     Meanwhile  enjoy 

Your  fill  what  happiness  this  happy  state 

Can  comprehend,  incapable  of  more." 

To  whom  the  patriarch  of  mankind  replied : 
U0  favorable  spirit,  propitious  guest, 
Well  hast  thou  taught  the  way  that  might  direct 
-   Our  knowledge,  and  the  scale  of  nature  set 
From  centre  to  circumference,  whereon, 
In  contemplation  of  created  things, 
By  steps  we  may  ascend  to  God.    But  say, 
What  meant  that  caution  joined,  *  If  ye  be  found         5 1 3 
Obedient  ?'  can  we  want  obedience  then 
To  him,  or  possibly  his  love  desert, 
Who  form'd  us  from  the  dust,  and  placed  us  here, 
Full  to  the  utmost  measure  of  what  bliss 
Human  desires  can  seek  or  apprehend  ?" 

To  whom  the  angel :  "  Son  of  Heaven  and  earth. 
Attend :  That  thou  art  happy,  owe  to  God ; 
That  thou  continnest  such,  owe  to  thyself, 
That  is,  to  thy  obedience ;  therein  stand. 
This  was  that  catition  given  thee ;  be  advised. 
God  made  thee  perfect,  not  immutable ;  624 

And  good  he  made  thee,  but  to  persevere 
He  left  it  in  thy  power ;  ordainTd  thy  will 
By  nature  free,  not  overruled  by  fate 
Inextricable,  or  strict  necessity : 
Our  voluntary  service  he  requires, 
Not  our  necessitated ;  such  with  him 
Finds  no  acceptance,  nor  can  find ;  for  bow 
Can  hearts,  not  free,  be  tried  whether  they  serve 
Willing  or  no,  who  will  but  what  they  must 
By  destiny,  and  can  no  other  choose  ? 
Myself  and  all  the  angelic  host,  that  stand 


B.  V.J  PARADISE    LOST.  145 

la  sight  of  God  enthroned,  our  happy  state 
Hold,  as  you  yours,  while  our  obedience  holds ; 
On  other  surety  none :  freely  we  serve, 
Because  we  freely  love,  as  in  our  will 
To  love  or  not ;  in  this  we  stand  or  fall : 
And  some  are  fall'n,  to  disobedience  fall'n, 
And  so  from  Heaven  to  deepest  Hell ;  0  fall 
From  what  high  state  of  bliss  into  what  woe  !" 

To  whom  our  great  progenitor :  "  Thy  words 
Attentive,  and  with  more  delighted  ear,  545 

Divine  instructor,  I  have  heard,  than  when 
Cherubic  songs  by  night  from  neighboring  hills 
Aerial  music  send :  nor  knew  I  not 
To  be  both  will  and  deed  created  free ; 
Yet  that  we  never  shall  forget  to  love 
Our  Maker,  and  obey  him,  whose  command 
Single  is  yet  so  just,  my  constant  thoughts 
Assured  me,  and  still  assure :  though  what  thou  tell'st 
Hath  past  in  Heaven,  some  doubt  within  me  move, 
But  more  desire  to  hear,  if  thou  consent, 
The  full  relation,  which  must  needs  be  strange,  556 

Worthy  of  sacred  silence  to  be  heard ; 
And  we  have  yet  large  day,  for  scarce  the  sun 
Hath  finished  half  his  journey,  and  scarce  begins 
His  other  half  in  the  great  zone  of  Heaven." 

Thus  Adam  made  request ;  and  Raphael, 
After  short  pause  assenting,  thus  began : 

"High  matter  thou  enjoin'st  me,  f)  pnme  of  men, 
Sad  task  and  hard ;  for  how  shall  I  relate 
To  human  sense  the  invisible  exploits 
Of  warring  spirits  ?  how,  without  remorse, 
The  ruin  of  so  many  glorious  once,  567 

And  perfect  while  they  stood?  how,  last,  unfold 
The  secrets  of  another  world,  perhaps 
Not  lawful  to  reveal  ?  yet  for  thy  good 
This  is  dispensed :  and  what  surmounts  the  reach 
Of  human  sense,  I  shall  delineate  so, 
By  likening  spiritual  to  corporal  forms, 
As  may  express  them  best ;  though  what  if  earth 
Be  but  the  shadow  of  Heaven,  and  things  therein, 
Each  to  other  like,  more  than  on  earth  is  thought  ? 

^  As  yet  this  world  was  not,  and  Chaos  wild  •      [rests 
Reign'd  where  these  Heavens  now  roll,  where  earth  now 

13 


146  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS,  [B.  v 

Upon  her  centre  poised ;  when,  on  a  day, 

(For  time,  though  in  eternity,  applied 

To  motion,  measures  all  things  durable 

By  present,  past,  and  future,)  on  such  day 

As  Heaven's  great  year  brings  forth  the  empyreal  host 

Of  angels,  by  imperial  summons  call'd, 

Innumerable  before  the  Almighty's  throne 

Forthwith  from  all  the  ends  of  Heaven  appeared 

Under  their  hierarchs  in  orders  bright ; 

Ten  thousand  thousand  ensigns  high  advanced,  58b 

Standards  and  gonfalons  'twixt  van  and  rear. 

Stream  in  the  air,  and  for  distinction  serve 

Of  hierarchies,  of  orders,  and  degrees ; 

Or  in  their  glittering  tissues  bear  imblazed 

Holy  memorials,  acts  of  zeal  and  love 

Recorded  eminent.     Thus,  when  in  orbs 

Of  circuit  inexpressible  they  stood, 

Orb  within  orb,  the  Father  infinite, 

By  whom  in  bliss  imbosom'd  sat  the  Son, 

Amidst,  as  from  a  flaming  mount,  whose  top 

Brightness  had  made  invisible,  thus  spake :  599 

"  c  Hear,  all  ye  angels,  progeny  of  light, 
Thrones,  dominations,  princedoms,  virtues,  powers, 
Hear  my  decree,  which  unrevoked  shall  stand. 
This  day  I  have  begot  whom  I  declare 
My  only  Son,  and  on  this  holy  hill 
Him  have  anointed,  whom  ye  now  behold 
At  my  right  hand  ;  your  head  I  him  appoint ; 
And  by  myself  have  sworn  to  him  shall  bow 
All  knees  in  Heaven,  and  shall  confess  him  Lord  : 
Under  his  great  vicegerent  reign  abide 
United  as  one  individual  soul,  010 

Forever  happy.     Him  who  disobeys, 
Me  disobeys,  breaks  union,  and  that  day, 
Cast  out  from  God  and  blessed  vision,  falls 
Into  -utter  darkness,  deep  ingulf'd,  his  place 
Ordain'd,  without  redemption,  without  end.' 

"  So  spake  the  Omnipotent,  and  with  his  words 
All  seem'd  well  pleased ;  all  seem'd,  but  were  not  all. 
That  day,  as  other  solemn  days,  they  spent 
In  song  and  dance  about  the  sacred  hill ; 
Mystical  dance,  which  yonder  starry  sphere 
Of  planets  and  of  fix'd  in  ali  her  wheels  621 


B.  V.J  PARADISE    LOST.  147 

liesembles  nearest,  mazes  intricate, 

Eccentric,  intervolved,  yet  regular 

Then  most,  when  most  irregular  they  seem  ; 

And  in  their  motions  harmony  divine 

So  smooths  her  charming  tones,  that  God's  own  ear 

Listens  delighted.    Evening  now  approach'd, 

(For  we  have  also  our  evening  and  our  morn, 

We  ours  for  change  delectable,  not  need ;) 

Forthwith  from  dance  to  sweet  repast  they  turn 

Desirous ;  all  in  circles  as  they  stood,  63? 

Tables  are  set,  and  on  a  sudden  piled 

With  angels'  food,  and  rubied  nectar  flows 

In  pearl,  in  diamond,  and  massy  gold, 

Fruit  of  delicious  vines,  the  growth  of  Heaven. 

On  flowers  reposed,  and  with  fresh  flowerets  crown'd, 

They  eat,  they  drink,  and  in  communion  sweet 

Quaff  immortality  and  joy,  secure 

Of  surfeit  where  full  measure  only  bounds 

Excess,  before  the  all-bounteous  King,  who  shower'd 

With  copious  hand,  rejoicing  in  their  joy. 

Now,  when  ambrosial  night  with  clouds  exhaled        642 

From  that  high  mount  of  God,  whence  light  and  shade 

Spring  both,  the  face  of  brightest  Heaven  had  changed 

To  grateful  twilight,  (for  night  comes  not  there 

In  darker  veil,)  and  roseate  dews  disposed 

All  but  the  unsleeping  eyes  of  God  to  rest ; 

Wide  over  all  the  plain,  and  wider  far 

Than  all  this  globous  earth  in  plain  outspread, 

(Such  are  the  courts  of  God,)  the  angelic  throng, 

Dispersed  in  bands  and  files,  their  camp  extend 

By  living  streams  among  the  trees  of  life, 

Pavilions  numberless,  and  sudden  rear'd  653 

Celestial  tabernacles,  where  they  slept 

Fann'd  with  cool  winds ;  save  those  who  in  their  course 

Melodious  hymns  about  the  sovereign  throne 

Alternate  all  night  long :  but  not  so  waked 

Satan,  (so  call  him  now,  his  former  name 

Is  heard  no  more  in  Heaven ;)  he  of  the  first, 

If  not  the  first  archangel,  great  in  power, 

In  favor  and  pre-eminence,  yet  fraught 

With  envy  against  the  Son  of  God,  that  day 

Honor'd  by  his  great  Father,  and  proclaim'd 

Messiah  King  anointed,  could  not  bear,  664 


1 48  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [u.  v 

Through  pride,  that  sight,  and  thought  himself  irapair'cl 
Deep  malice  thence  conceiving,  and  disdain, 
Soon  as  midnight  brought  on  the  dusky  hour 
Friendliest  to  sleep  and  silence,  he  resolved 
With  all  his  legions  to  dislodge,  and  leave 
Unworshipp'd,  unobey'd,  the  throne  supreme? 
Contemptuous ;  and  his  next  subordinate 
Awakening,  thus  to  him  in  secret  spake : 

"  c  Sleep'st  thou,  companion  dear?  what  sleep  can  close 
Thy  eyelids  ?  and  remember' st  what  decree  674 

Of  yesterday,  so  late  hath  pass'd  the  lips 
Of  Heaven's  Almighty  ?     Thou  to  me  thy  thoughts 
"Wast  wont,  I  mine  to  thee  was  wont  to  impart; 
Both  waking  we  were  one ;  how  then  can  now 
Thy  sleep  dissent?  New  laws  thou  seest  imposed ; 
New  laws  from  him  who  reigns,  new  minds  may  raise 
In  us  who  serve,  new  counsels,  to  debate 
"What  doubtful  may  ensue:  more  in  this  place 
To  utter  is  not  safe.    Assemble  thou 
Of  all  those  myriads  which  we  lead  the  chief; 
Tell  them  that  by  command,  ere  yet  dim  night  685 

Her  shadowy  cloud  withdraws,  I  am  to  haste, 
And  all  who  under  me  their  banners  wave, 
Homeward  with  flying  march  where  we  possess 
The  quarters  of  the  north ;  there  to  prepare 
Fit  entertainment  to  receive  our  King 
The  great  Messiah,  and  his  new  commands, 
"Who  speedily  through  all  the  hierarchies 
Intends  to  pass  triumphant,  and  give  laws.' 

"  So  spake  the  false  archangel,  and  infused 
Bad  influence  into  the  unwary  breast 
Of  his  associate :  he  together  calls,  696 

Or  several  one  by  one,  the  regent  powers, 
Under  him  regent ;  tells,  as  he  was  taught, 
That,  the  Most  High  commanding,  now  ere  night, 
Now  ere  dim  night  had  disencumber'd  Heaven, 
The  great  hierarchial  standard  was  to  move ; 
Tells  the  suggested  cause,  and  casts  between 
Ambiguous  words  and  jealousies,  to  sound 
Or  taint  integrity.     But  all  obey'd 
The  wonted  signal,  and  superior  voice 
Of  their  great  potentate ;  for  great  indeed 
His  name,  and  high  was  his  degree  in  Heaven :  707 


B.  V.J  PARADISE    LOST.  149 

His  countenance,  as  the  morning  star  that  guides 
The  starry  flock,  allured  them,  and  with  lies 
Drew  after  him  the  third  part  of  Heaven's  host. 
Meanwhile  the  eternal  eye,  whose  sight  discerns 
Abstrusest  thoughts,  from  forth  his  holy  mount, 
And  from  within  the  golden  lamps  that  burn 
Nightly  before  him,  saw  without  their  light 
Rebellion  rising ;  saw  in  whom,  how  spread 
Among  the  sons  of  morn,  what  multitudes 
Were  banded  to  oppose  his  high  decree ;  717 

And,  smiling,  to  his  only  Son  thus  said : 

" l  Son,  thou  in  whom  my  glory  I  behold 
In  full  resplendence,  heir  of  all  my  might, 
Nearly  it  now  concerns  us  to  be  sure 
Of  our  omnipotence,  and  with  what  arms 
"We  mean  to  hold  what  anciently  we  claim 
Of  deity  or  empire ;  such  a  foe 
Is  rising,  who  intends  to  erect  his  throne 
Equal  to  ours,  throughout  the  spacious  north ; 
Nor  so  content,  hath  in  his  thought  to  try, 
In  battle,  what  our  power  is,  or  our  right.  728 

Let  us  advise,  and  to  this  hazard  draw 
With  speed  what  force  is  left,  and  all  employ 
In  our  defence,  lest  unawares  we  lose 
This  our  high  place,  our  sanctuary,  our  hill.' 

"  To  whom  the  Son,  with  calm  aspect  and  clear, 
Lightning  divine,  ineffable,  serene, 
Made  answer :  '  Mighty  Father,  thou  thy  foes 
Justly  hast  in  derision,  and,  secure, 
Laugh'st  at  their  vain  designs  and  tumults  vain, 
Matter  to  me  of  glory,  whom  their  hate 
Illustrates,  when  they  see  all  regal  power  739 

Given  me  to  quell  their  pride,  and  in  event 
Know  whether  I  be  dexterous  to  subdue 
The  rebels,  or  be  found  the  worst  in  Heaven :' 

"  So  spake  the  Son ;  but  Satan  with  his  powers 
Far  was  advanced  on  winged  speed,  an  host 
Innumerable  as  the  stars  of  night, 
Or  stars  of  morning,  dew-drops,  which  the  sun 
Impearls  on  every  leaf  and  every  flower. 
Regions  they  pass'd,  the  mighty  regencies 
Of  seraphim,  and  potentates,  and  thrones, 
In  their  triple  degrees ;  regions  to  which  750 


150  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  fu.  v 

All  thy  dominion,  Adam,  is  no  more 
Than  what  this  garden  is  to  all  the  earth, 
And  all  the  sea,  from  one  entire  globose 
Stretch'd  into  longitude ;  which  having  pass'd, 
At  length  into  the  limits  of  the  north 
They  came,  and  Satan  to  his  royal  seat 
High  on  a  hill,  far  blazing,  as  a  mount 
Raised  on  a  mount,  with  pyramids  and  towers 
From  diamond  quarries  hewn,  and  rocks  of  gold ; 
The  palace  of  great  Lucifer,  (so  call  760 

That  structure  in  the  dialect  of  meo 
Interpreted,)  which  not  long  after  he, 
Affecting  all  equality  with  God, 
In  imitation  of  that  mount  whereon 
Messiah  was  declared  in  sight  of  Heaven, 
The  Mountain  of  the  Congregation  calPd ; 
For  thither  he  assembled  all  his  train, 
Pretending  so  commanded,  to  consult 
About  the  great  reception  of  their  king 
Thither  to  come,  and  with  calumnious  art 
Of  counterfeited  truth  thus  held  their  ears :  771 

"  4  Thrones,  dominations,  princedoms,  virtues,  powers, 
If  these  magnific  titles  yet  remain 
Not  merely  titular,  since  by  decree 
Another  now  hath  to  himself  engross'd 
All  power,  and  us  eclipsed,  under  the  name 
Of  King  anointed,  for  whom  all  this  haste 
Of  midnight  march,  and  hurried  meeting  here ; 
This  only  to  consult ;  how  we  may  best, 
With  what  may  be  devised  of  honors  new, 
Receive  him  coming,  to  receive  from  us 
Knee-tribute  yet  unpaid,  prostration  vile  782 

Too  much  to  one,  but  double  how  endured, 
To  one  and  to  his  image  now  proclaim'd  ? 
But  what  if  better  counsels  might  erect 
Our  minds,  and  teach  us  to  cast  off  this  yoke  ? 
Will  ye  submit  your  necks,  and  choose  to  bend 
The  supple  knee  ?    Ye  will  not,  if  I  trust 
To  know  ye  right,  or  if  ye  know  yourselves 
Native  and  sons  of  Heaven,  possessed  before 
By  none,  and  if  not  equal  all,  yet  free, 
Equally  free ;  for  orders  and  degrees 
Jar  not  with  liberty,  but  well  consist.  793 


B.  V.]  PARADISE   LOST.  151 

Who  can  in  reason  then,  or  right,  assume 
Monarchy  over  such  as  live  by  right 
His  equals,  if  in  power  and  splendor  less, 
In  freedom  equal  ?  or  can  introduce 
Law  and  edict  on  us,  who  without  law 
Err  not?  much  less  for  this  to  be  our  Lord, 
And  look  for  adoration,  to  the  abuse 
Of  those  imperial  titles,  which  assert 
Our  being  ordain' d  to  govern,  not  to  serve.' 

"  Thus  far  his  bold  discourse  without  control          80H 
Had  audience ;  when  among  the  seraphim 
Abdiel,  than  whom  none  with  more  zeal  adored 
The  Deity,  and  divine  commands  obey'd, 
Stood  up,  and,  in  a  flame  of  zeal  severe, 
The  current  of  his  fury  thus  opposed : 

" '  0  argument  blasphemous,  false  and  proud ! 
Words  which  no  ear  ever  to  hear  in  Heaven 
Expected,  least  of  all  from  thee,  ingrate, 
In  place  thyself  so  high  above  thy  peers. 
Canst  thou  with  impious  obloquy  condemn 
The  just  decree  of  God,  pronounced  and  sworn,          814 
That  to  his  only  Son,  by  right  endued 
With  regal  sceptre,  every  soul  in  Heaven 
Shall  bend  the  knee,  and  in  that  honor  due 
Confess  him  rightful  King?    Unjust,  thou  say'st, 
Flatly  unjust,  to  bind  with  laws  the  free, 
And  equal  over  equals  to  let  reign, 
One  over  all  with  unsucceeded  power. 
Shalt  thou  give  law  to  God,  shalt  thou  dispute 
"With  him  the  points  of  liberty,  who  made 
Thee  what  thou  art,  and  form'd  the  powers  of  Heaven 
Such  as  he  pleased,  and  circumscribed  their  being?     825 
Yet,  by  experience  taught,  we  know  how  good, 
And  of  our  good  and  of  our  dignity 
How  provident,  he  is,  how  far  from  thought 
To  make  us  less,  bent  rather  to  exalt 
Our  happy  state  under  one  head  more  near 
United.     But  to  grant  it  thee  unjust, 
That  equal  over  equals  monarch  reign : 
Thyself,  though  great  and  glorious,  dost  thou  count, 
Or  all  angelic  nature  join'd  in  one, 
Equal  to  him,  begotten  Son  ?  by  whom, 
As  by  his  Word,  the  mighty  Father  made  836 


152  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  v 

All  things,  even  thee ;  and  all  the  spirits  of  Heaven 

By  him' created  in  their  bright  degrees, 

Crown'd  them  with  glory,  and  to  their  glory  named 

Thrones,  dominations,  princedoms,  virtues,  powers, 

Essential  powers ;  nor  by  his  reign  obscured, 

But  more  illustrious  made ;  since  he,  the  head, 

One  of  our  number  thus  reduced  becomes ; 

His  laws  our  laws ;  all  honor  to  him  done 

Returns  our  own.     Cease  then  this  impious  rage, 

And  tempt  not  these ;  but  hasten  to  appease  840 

The  incensed  Father,  and  the  incensed  Son, 

While  pardon  may  be  found,  in  time  besought.' 

u  So  spake  the  fervent  angel ;  but  his  zeal 
None  seconded,  as  out  of  season  judged, 
Or  singular  and  rash ;  whereat  rejoiced 
The  apostate,  and  more  haughty  thus  replied : 

" l  That  we  were  form'd,  then,  say'st  thou?  and  the  wo^k 
Of  secondary  hands,  by  task  transferr'd 
From  Father  to  his  Son  ?     Strange  point  and  new ! 
Doctrine  which  we  would  know  whence  learn'd.  Who  saw 
When  this  creation  was  ?  rememberest  thou  857 

Thy  making,  while  the  Maker  gave  thee  being  ? 
We  know  no  time  when  we  were  not  as  now  ; 
Know  none  before  us,  self-begot,  self-raised 
By  our  own  quickening  power,  when  fatal  course 
Had  circled  his  full  orb,  the  birth  mature 
Of  this  our  native  Heaven,  ethereal  sons. 
Our  puissance  is  our  own ;  our  own  right  hand 
Shall  teach  us  highest  deeds,  by  proof  to  try 
Who  is  our  equal :  then  thou  shalt  behold 
Whether  by  supplication  we  intend 
Address,  and  to  begirt  the  Almighty  throne  868 

Beseeching  or  besieging.     This  report, 
These  tidings,  carry  to  the  anointed  King ; 
And  fly,  ere  evil  intercept  thy  flight.' 

u  He  said,  and,  as  the  sound  of  waters  deep, 
Hoarse  murmur  echoed  to  his  words  applause 
Through  the  infinite  host ;  nor  less  for  that 
The  flaming  seraph  fearless,  though  alone, 
Encompass'd  round  with  foes,  thus  answer'd  bold : 

"  '  O  alienate  from  God,  O  spirit  accursed, 
Forsaken  of  all  good ;  I  see  thy  fall 
Determined,  and  thy  hapless  crew  involved  879 


B.  V.J  PARADISE   LOST.  153 

In  this  perfidious  fraud,  contagion  spread 

Both  of  thy  crime  and  punishment :  henceforth 

No  more  be  troubled  how  to  quit  the  yoke 

Of  God's  Messiah ;  those  indulgent  laws 

Will  not  be  now  vouchsafed ;  other  decrees 

Against  thee  are  gone  forth  without  recall ; 

That  golden  sceptre,  which  thou  didst  reject, 

Is  now  an  iron  rod  to  bruise  and  break 

Thy  disobedience.     Well  thou  didst  advise ; 

Yet  not  for  thy  advice  or  threats  I  fly  880 

These  wicked  tents  devoted,  lest  the  wrath 

Impendent,  raging  into  sudden  flame, 

Distinguish  not :  for  soon  expect  to  feel 

His  thunder  on  thy  head,  devouring  fire. 

Then  who  created  thee  lamenting  learn, 

When  who  can  uncreate  thee  thou  shalt  know.7 

"  So  spake  the  seraph  Abdiel,  faithful  found 
Among  the  faithless,  faithful  only  he ; 
Among  innumerable  false,  unmoved, 
Unshaken,  unseduced,  unterrified, 

His  loyalty  he  kept,  his  love,  his  zeal ;  900 

Nor  number,  nor  -example,  with  him  wrought 
To  swerve  from  truth,  or  change  his  constant  mind, 
Though  single.    From  amidst  them  forth  he  pass'd, 
Long  way  through  hostile  scorn,  which  he  sustained 
Superior,  nor  of  violence  fear'd  aught ; 
And  with  retorted  scorn  his  back  he  turn'd 
On  those  proud  towers  to  swift  destruction  doom'd." 


PARADISE   LOST. 


BOOK  VI. 

THE    ABGUMENT. 

Raphael  continues  to  relate  how  Michael  and  Gabriel  were  sent  forth  to  battle 
against  Satan  and  his  angels.  The  first  fight  described.  Satan  and  his  powers  re- 
tire under  night.  He  calls  a  council,  invents  devilish  engines,  which  in  the  second 
day's  fight  put  Michael  and  his  angels  to  some  disorder  ;  but  they  at  length,  pull- 
ing up  mountains,  overwhelmed  both  the  force  and  machines  of  Satan.  Yet  the 
tumult  not  so  ending,  God  on  the  third  day  sends  Messiah  his  Son,  for  whom  he 
had  reserved  the  glory  of  that  victory :  he,  in  the  power  of  his  Father,  coming  to 
the  place,  and  causing  all  his  legions  to  stand  still  on  either  side,  with  his  chariot 
and  thunder  driving  into  the  midst  of  his  enemies,  pursues  them,  unable  to  resist, 
towards  the  wall  of  Heaven  ;  which  opening,  they  leap  down  with  horror  and  con- 
fusion into  the  place  of  punishment  prepared  for  them  in  the  deep.  Messiah  re- 
turns with  triumph  to  his  Father. 

"  ALL  night  the  dreadless  angel,  unpursued, 

Thro'  Heaven's  wide  champaign  held  his  way ;  till  morn, 

Waked  hy  the  circling  hours,  with  rosy  hand 

Unharr'd  the  gates  of  light.     There  is  a  cave 

Within  the  mount  of  God,  fast  by  his  throne, 

Where  light  and  darkness  in  perpetual  round 

Lodge  and  dislodge  by  turns,  which  makes  thro'  Heaven 

Grateful  vicissitude,  like  day  and  night ; 

Light  issues  forth,  and  at  the  other  door 

Obsequious  darkness  enters,  till  her  hour  ]  0 

To  veil  the  Heaven,  though  darkness  there  might  well 

Seem  twilight  here :  and  now  went  forth  the  morn, 

Such  as  in  highest  Heaven,  array'd  in  gold 

Empyreal ;  from  before  her  vanish'd  night, 

Shot  through  with  orient  beams ;  when  all  the  plain, 

Cover'd  with  thick  embattled  squadrons  bright, 

Chariots  and  flaming  arms,  and  fiery  steeds, 

Reflecting  blaze  on  blaze,  first  met  his  view. 

War  he  perceived,  war  in  product,  and  found, 

Already  known,  what  he  for  news  had  thought 

To  have  reported ;  gladly  then  he  mix'd  21 


Li    VI.]  PARADISE    LOST.  155 

Among  those  friendly  powers,  who  him  received 
With  joy  and  acclamations  loud,  that  one, 
That  of  so  many  myriads  fallen,  yet  one 
Return'd  not  lost.     On  to  the  sacred  hill 
They  led  him  high  applauded,  and  present 
Before  the  seat  supreme ;  from  whence  a  voice 
From  midst  a  golden  cloud  thus  mild  was  heard  : 

"  l  Servant  of  God,  well  done ;  well  hast  thou  fought 
The  better  fight,  who  single  hast  maintain'd 
Against  revolted  multitudes  the  cause  3 1 

Of  truth,  in  word  mightier  than  they  in  arms ; 
And  for  the  testimony  of  truth  hast  borne 
Universal  reproach,  far  worse  to  bear 
Than  violence ;  for  this  was  all  thy  car 
To  stand  approved  in  sight  of  God,  though  worlds 
Judged  thee  perverse :  the  easier  conquest  now 
Remains  thee,  aided  by  this  host  of  friends, 
Back  on  thy  foes  more  glorious  to  return 
Than  scorn'd  thou  didst  depart,  and  to  subdue 
By  force,  who  reason  for  their  law  refuse, 
Right  reason  for  their  law,  and  for  their  king  42 

Messiah,  who  by  right  of  merit  reigns. 
Go,  Michael,  of  celestial  armies  prince, 
And  thou,  in  military  prowess  next, 
Gabriel,  lead  forth  to  battle  these  my  sons 
Invincible,  lead  forth  my  armed  saints, 
By  thousands  and  by  millions  ranged  for  fight, 
Equal  in  number  to  that  godless  crew 
Rebellious ;  then  with  fire  and  hostile  arms 
Fearless  assault,  and  to  the  brow  of  Heaven 
Pursuing,  drive  them  out  from  God  and  bliss 
Into  their  place  of  punishment,  the  gulf  68 

Of  Tartarus,  which  ready  opens  wide 
His  fiery  chaos  to  receive  their  fall.' 

"  So  spake  the  Sovereign  voice,  and  clouds  began 
To  darken  all  the  hill,  and  smoke  to  roll 
In  dusky  wreaths,  reluctant  flames,  the  sign 
Of  wrath  awaked ;  nor  with  less  dread  the  loud 
Ethereal  trumpet  from  on  high  'gan  blow : 
At  which  command  the  powers  militant, 
That  stood  for  Heaven,  in  mighty  quadrate  join'd 
Of  union  Irresistible,  moved  on, 
In  silence,  their  bright  legions  to  the  sound  64 


156  MILTON  S    POETICAL   WORKS.  fn.  VJ 

Of  instrumental  harmony,  that  breathed 

Heroic  ardor  to  adventurous  deeds, 

Under  their  God-like  leaders,  in  the  cause 

Of  God  and  his  Messiah.     On  they  move, 

Indissolubly  firm  ;  nor  obvious  hill, 

Nor  straitening  vale,  nor  wood,  nor  stream,  divides 

Their  perfect  ranks ;  for  high  above  the  ground   • 

Their  march  was,  and  the  passive  air  upbore 

Their  nimble  tread ;  as  when  the  total  kind 

Of  birds,  in  orderly  array  on  wing,  74 

Came,  summoned  over  Eden,  to  receive 

Their  names  of  thee ;  so  over  many  a  tract 

Of  Heaven  they  march'd,  and  many  a  province  wide, 

Tenfold  the  length  of  this  terrene.    At  last, 

Far  in  the  horizon,  to  the  north,  appeared 

From  skirt  to  skirt  a  fiery  region,  stretch'd 

In  battailous  aspect,  and  nearer  view 

Bristled  with  upright  beams  innumerable 

Of  rigid  spears,  and  helmets  throng'd,  and  shields 

Various,  with  boastful  argument  portray'd, 

The  banded  powers  of  Satan,  hasting  on,  85 

"With  furious  expedition ;  for  they  ween'd 

That  self-same  day  by  fight,  or  by  surprise, 

To  win  the  mount  of  God,  and  on  his  throne 

To  set  the  envier  of  his  state,  the  proud 

Aspirer;  but  their  thoughts  proved  fond  and  vain 

In  the  midway :  though  strange  to  us  it  seem'd 

At  first,  that  angel  should  with  angel  war, 

And  in  fierce  hosting  meet,  who  wont  to  meet 

So  oft  in  festivals  of  joy  and  love 

Unanimous,  as  sons  of  one  great  Sire, 

Hymning  the  eternal  Father.    But  the  shout  96 

Of  battle  now  began,  and  rushing  sound 

Of  onset  ended  soon  each  milder  thought. 

High  in  the  midst,  exalted  as  a  god, 

The  apostate,  in  his  sun-bright  chariot  sat, 

Idol  of  majesty  divine,  inclosed 

With  flaming  cherubim  and  golden  shields ; 

Then  lighted  from  his  gorgeous  throne,  for  now 

'Twixt  host  and  host  but  narrow  space  was  left. 

A  dreadful  interval,  and  front  to  front 

Presented  stood  in  terrible  array 

Of  hideous  length :  before  the  cloudy  van,  107 


B.  VI.]  PARADISE    LOST.  157 

On  the  rough  edge  of  battle  ere  it  join'd, 
Satan,  with  vast  and  haughty  strides  advanced, 
Came  towering,  arm'd  in  adamant  and  gold. 
Abdiel  that  sight  endured  not,  where  he  stood 
Among  the  mightiest,  bent  on  highest  deeds, 
And  thus  his  own  undaunted  heart  explores : 

" '  O  Heaven !  that  such  resemblance  of  the  Highest 
Should  yet  remain,  where  faith  and  realty 
Kemain  not :  wherefore  should  not  strength  and  might 
There  fail  where  virtue  fails,  or  weakest  prove  117 

Where  boldest,  though  to  sight  unconquerable  ? 
His  puissance,  trusting  in  the  Almighty's  aid, 
I  mean  to  try,  whose  reason  I  have  tried, 
Unsound  and  false ;  nor  is  it  aught  but  just, 
That  he  who  in  debate  of  truth  hath  won, 
Should  win  in  arms,  in  both  disputes  alike 
Victor ;  though  brutish  that  contest  and  foul, 
When  reason  hath  to  deal  with  force,  yet  so 
Most  reason  is  that  reason  overcome.' 

"  So  pondering,  and  from  his  armed  peers 
Forth  stepping  opposite,  half  way  he  met  128 

His  daring  foe,  at  this  prevention  more 
Incensed,  and  thus  securely  him  defied : 

" '  Proud,  art  thou  met  ?  thy  hope  was  to  have  reach'cl 
The  height  of  thy  aspiring  unopposed, 
The  throne  of  God  unguarded,  and  his  side 
Abandon'd  at  the  terror  of  thy  power 
Or  potent  tongue :  fool,  not  to  think  how  vain 
Against  the  Omnipotent  to  rise  in  arms ; 
Who  out  of  smallest  things  could  without  end 
Have  raised  incessant  armies  to  defeat 
Thy  folly;  or  with  solitary  hand,  139 

Reaching  beyond  all  limit,  at  one  blow 
Unaided  could  have  finish'd  thee,  and  whelm'd 
Thy  legions  under  darkness.    But  thou  seest 
All  are  not  o£  thy  train ;  there  be  who  faith- 
Prefer,  and  piety  to  God,  though  then 
To  thee  not  visible,  when  I  ajone 
Seem'd  in  thy  world  erroneous  to  dissent 
From  all :  my  sect  thou  seest ;  now  learn  too  late 
How  few  sometimes  may  know,  when  thousands  err.' 

"  Whom  the  grand  foe,  with  scornful  eye  askance, 
Thus  answer'd :  '111  for  thee,  but  in  wish'd  hour        150 

14 


158  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  LB.  VL 

Of  my  revenge,  first  sought  for,  thou  return'st 

From  flight,  seditious  angel,  to  receive 

Thy  merited  reward,  the  first  assay 

Of  this  right  hand  provoked,  since  first  that  tongue, 

Inspired  with  contradiction,  durst  oppose 

A  third  part  of  the  gods,  in  synod  met 

Their  deities  to  assert,  who,  while  they  feel 

Vigor  divine  within  them,  can  allow 

Omnipotence  to  none.     But  well  thou  com'st 

Before  thy  fellows,  ambitious  to  win  1 60 

From  me  some  plume,  that  thy  success  may  show 

Destruction  to  the  rest :  this  pause  between 

(Unanswered  lest  thou  boast)  to  let  thee  know ; 

At  first  I  thought  that  liberty  and  Heaven 

To  heavenly  souls  had  been  all  one ;  but  now 

I  see  that  most  through  sloth  had  rather  serve, 

Ministering  spirits,  train'd  up  in  feast  and  song ; 

Such  hast  thou  arm'd,  the  minstrelsy  of  Heaven, 

Servility  with  freedom  to  contend, 

As  both  their  deeds  compared  this  day  shall  prove.' 

"  To  whom  in  brief  thus  Abdiel  stern  replied :         171 
4  Apostate,  still  thou  err'st,  nor  end  wilt  find 
Of  erring,  from  the  path  of  truth  remote : 
Unjustly  thou  deprav'st  it  with  the  name 
Of  servitude,  to  serve  whom  God  ordains, 
Or  nature ;  God  and  nature  bid  the  same, 
"When  he  who  rules  is  worthiest,  and  excels 
Them  whom  he  governs.     This  is  servitude, 
To  serve  the  unwise,  or  him  who  hath  rebell'd 
Against  his  worthier,  as  thine  now  serve  thee, 
Thyself  not  free,  but  to  thyself  inthralPd ; 
Yet  lewdly  dar'st  our  ministering  upbraid.  182 

Reign  thou  in  Hell,  thy  kingdom ;  let  me  serve 
In  Heaven  God  ever  blest,  and  his  divine 
Behests  obey,  worthiest  to  be  obey'd  ; 
Yet  chains  in  Hell,  not  realms  expect:  meanwhile 
From  me  returned,  as  erst  thou  saidst,  from  flight, 
This  greeting  on  thy  impious  crest  receive.' 

"  So  saying,  a  noble  stroke  he  lifted  high, 
Which  hung  not,  but  so  swift  with  tempest  fell 
On  the  proud  crest  of  Satan,  that  no  sight, 
Nor  motion  of  swift  thought,  less  could  his  shield 
Such  ruin  intercept :  ten  paces  huge  3  93 


B.  VI.]  PARADISE   LOST. 

He  back  recoil'd ;  the  tenth  on  bended  knee 

His  massy  spear  upstay'd ;  as  if  on  earth 

Winds  under  ground,  or  waters  forcing  way, 

Sidelong  had  push'd  a  mountain  from  his  seat, 

Half  sunk  with  all  his  pines.     Amazement  seized 

The  rebel  thrones,  but  greater  rage  to  see 

Thus  foil'd  their  mightiest ;  ours  joy  filPd,  and  shout, 

Presage  of  victory,  and  fierce  desire 

Of  battle :  whereat  Michael  bid  sound 

The  archangel  trumpet ;  through  the  vast  of  Heaven    208 

It  sounded,  and  the  faithful  armies  rung 

Hosannah  to  the  Highest ;  nor  stood  at  gaze 

The  adverse  legions,  nor  less  hideous  join'd 

The  horrid  shock.     Now  storming  fury  rose, 

And  clamor  such  as  heard  in  Heaven  till  now 

Was  never ;  arms  on  armor  clashing  bray'd 

Horrible  discord,  and  the  madding  wheels 

Of  brazen  chariots  raged ;  dire  was  the  noise 

Of  conflict ;  overhead  the  dismal  hiss 

Of  fiery  darts  in  flaming  volleys  flew, 

And,  flying,  vaulted  either  host  with  fire.  214 

So  under  fiery  cope  together  rush'd 

Both  battles  main,  with  ruinous  assault 

And  inextinguishable  rage ;  all  Heaven 

Resounded,  and  had  earth  been  then,  all  earth 

Had  to  her  centre  shook.    What  wonder  ?  when 

Millions  of  fierce  encountering  angels  fought 

On  either  side,  the  least  of  whom  could  wield 

These  elements,  and  arm  him  with  the  force 

Of  all  their  regions  ?     How  much  more  of  power, 

Army  against  army  numberless,  to  raise 

Dreadful  combustion  warring,  and  disturb,  225 

Though  not  destroy,  their  happy  native  seat ; 

Had  not  the  eternai  King  omnipotent 

From  his  stronghold  of  Heaven  high  overruled 

And  limited  their  might ;  though  numbered  such 

As  each  divided  legion  might  have  seem'd 

A  numerous  host,  in  strength  each  armed  hand 

A  legion,  led  in  fight,  yet  leader  seem'd 

Each  warrior,  single  as  in  chief,  expert 

When  to  advance,  or  stand,  or  turn  the  sway 

Of  battle,  open  when,  and  when  to  close 

The  ridges  of  grim  war :  no  thought  of  flight,  236 


160  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  vi 


of  retreat,  no  unbecoming  deed 
That  argued  fear  ;  each  on  himself  relied, 
As  only  in  his  arm  the  moment  lay 
Of  victory.    Deeds  of  eternal  fame 
Were  done,  but  infinite  ;  for  wide  was  spread 
That  war  and  various,  sometimes  on  firm  ground 
A  standing  fight,  then,  soaring  on  main  wing, 
Tormented  all  the  air  ;  all  air  seem'd  then 
Conflicting  fire.    Long  time  in  even  scale 
The  battle  hung  ;  till  Satan,  who  that  day  2-10 

Prodigious  power  had  shown,  and  met  in  arms 
No  equal,  ranging  through  the  dire  attack 
Of  fighting,  seraphim  confused,  at  length 
Saw  where  the  sword  of  Michael  smote,  and  fell'd 
Squadrons  at  once  ;  with  huge  two-handed  sway, 
Brandish'd  aloft,  the  horrid  edge  came  down 
Wide  wasting  ;  such  destruction  to  withstand 
He  hasted,  and  opposed  the  rocky  orb 
Of  tenfold  adamant,  his  ample  shield, 
A  vast  circumference.    At  his  approach 
The  great  archangel  from  his  warlike  toil  257 

Surceased,  and  glad,  as  hoping  here  to  end 
Intestine  war  in  Heaven,  the  arch  foe  subdued, 
Or  captive  dragg'd  in  chains,  with  hostile  frown 
And  visage  all  inflamed,  first  thus  began  : 

u  '  Author  of  evil,  unknown  till  thy  revolt, 
Unnamed  in  Heaven,  now  plenteous,  as  thou  seest 
These  acts  of  hateful  strife,  hateful  to  all, 
Though  heaviest  by  just  measure  on  thyself 
And  thy  adherents  :  how  hast  thou  disturb'd 
Heaven's  blessed  peace,  and  into  nature  brought 
Misery,  uncreated  till  the  crime  268 

Of  thy  rebellion  !  how  hast  thou  instill'd 
Thy  malice  into  thousands,  once  upright 
And  faithful,  now  proved  false  !     But  think  not  hero 
To  trouble  holy  rest  ;  Heaven  casts  thee  out 
From  all  her  confines.     Heaven,  the  seat  of  bliss, 
Brooks  not  the  works  of  violence  and  war  : 
Hence  then,  and  evil  go  with  thee  along, 
Thy  offspring,  to  the  place  of  evil,  Hell, 
Thou  and  thy  wicked  crew  ;  there  mingle  broils, 
Ere  this  avenging  sword  begin  thy  doom, 
Or  some  more  sudden  vengeance  wing'd  from  God     279 


VJ.J  PARADISE    LOST.  161 

Precipitate  thee  with  augmented  pain!7 

"  So  spake  the  prince  of  angels ;  to  whom  thus 
The  adversary :  '  Nor  think  thou  with  wind 
Of  airy  threats  to  awe  whom  yet  with  deeds 
Thou  canst  not.     Hast  thou  turn'd  the  least  of  these 
To  flight,  or  if  to  fall,  but  that  they  rise 
Unvanquish'd,  easier  to  transact  with  me 
That  thou  shouldst  hope,  imperious,  and  with  threats 
To  chase  me  hence  ?  err  not  that  so  shall  end 
The  strife  which  thou  calFst  evil,  but  we  style  2SO 

The  strife  of  glory ;  which  we  mean  to  win, 
Or  turn  this  Heaven  itself  into  the  Hell 
Thou  fablest,  here  however  to  dwell  free, 
If  not  to  reign :  meanwhile  thy  utmost  force. 
And  join  him  named  Almighty  to  thy  aid, 
I  fly  not,  but  have  sought  thee  far  and  nigh.' 

u  They  ended  parle,  and  both  addressed  for  fight 
Unspeakable;  for  who,  though  with  the  tongue 
Of  angels,  can  relate,  or  to  what  things 
Liken  on  earth  conspicuous,  that  may  lift 
Human  imagination  to  such  height  300 

Of  godlike  power  ?  for  likest  gods  they  seem'd, 
Stood  they  or  moved,  in  stature,  motion,  arms, 
Pit  to  decide  the  empire  of  great  Heaven. 
Now  waved  their  fiery  swords,  and  in  the  air 
Made  horrid  circles ;  two  broad  suns  their  shields 
Blazed  opposite,  while  expectation  stood 
In  horror ;  from  each  hand  with  speed  retired, 
Where  erst  was  thickest  fight,  the  angelic  throng, 
And  left  large  field,  unsafe  within  the  wind 
Of  such  commotion ;  such  as,  to  set  forth 
Great  things  by  small,  if  nature's  concord  broke,        311 
Among  the  constellations  war  were  sprung, 
Two  planets  rushing  from  aspect  malign 
Of  fiercest  opposition  in  mid-sky 
Should  combat,  and  their  jarring  spheres  confound. 
Together  both  with  next  to  almighty  arm 
Uplifted  imminent,  one  stroke  they  aim'd 
That  might  determine,  and  not  need  repeat, 
As  not  of  power  at  once :  nor  odds  appear'd 
In  might  or  swift  prevention :  but  the  sword 
Of  Michael,  from  the  armory  of  God, 
"Was  given  him  tempered  so,  that  neither  keen  322 


IC2  MILTON  S    POETICAL    WORKS.  [B.  VI 

!NTor  solid  might  resist  that  edge :  it  met 

The  sword  of  Satan  with  steep  force  to  smite 

Descending,  and  in  half  cut  sheer ;  nor  stay'd, 

But  with  swift  wheel  reverse,  deep  entering,  shared 

All  his  right  side :  then  Satan  first  knew  pain, 

And  writhed  him  to  and  fro  convolved ;  so  sore 

The  griding  sword  with  discontinuous  wound 

Pass'd  through  him ;  hut  the  ethereal  substance  closed, 

IsTot  long  divisible ;  and  from  the  gash 

A  stream  of  nectarous  humor  issuing  flow'd  332 

Sanguine,  such  as  celestial  spirits  may  bleed, 

And  all  his  armor  stain'd,  erewhile  so  bright. 

Forthwith  on  all  sides  to  his  aid  was  run 

By  angels  many  and  strong,  who  interposed 

Defence,  while  others  bore  him  on  their  shields 

Back  to  his  chariot,  where  it  stood  retired 

From  off  the  files  of  war ;  there  they  him  laid 

Gnashing  for  anguish,  and  despite,  and  shame, 

To  find  himself  not  matchless,  and  his  pride 

Humbled  by  such  rebuke,  so  far  beneath  342 

His  confidence  to  equal  God  in  power. 

Yet  soon  he  heal'd ;  for  spirits  that  live  throughout 

Vital  in  every  part,  not  as  frail  man 

In  entrails,  heart  or  head,  liver  or  reins, 

Cannot  but  by  annihilating  die ; 

ISTor  in  their  liquid  texture  mortal  wound 

Receive,  no  more  than  can  the  fluid  air : 

All  heart  they  live,  all  head,  all  eye,  all  ear, 

All  intellect,  all  sense ;  and  as  they  please, 

They  limb  themselves,  and  color,  shape,  or  size 

Assume,  as  likes  them  best,  condense  or  rare. 

"  Meanwhile  in  other  parts  like  deeds  deserved       354 
Memorial,  where  the  might  of  Gabriel  fought, 
And  with  fierce  ensigns  pierced  the  deep  array 
Of  Moloch,  furious  king ;  who  him  defied, 
And  at  his  chariot- wheels  to  drag  him  bound 
Threaten'd,  nor  from  the  Holy  One  of  Heaven 
Kefrain'd  his  tongue  blasphemous;  but  anon, 
Down  cloven  to  the  waist,  with  shattered  arms 
And  uncouth  pain,  fled  bellowing.     On  each  wing 
Uriel  and  Raphael  his  vaunting  foe, 
Though  huge,  and  in  a  rock  of  diamond  arm'd, 
Vanquish'd  Adramelech  and  Asmadai,  865 


,  VI. j  PARADISE    LOST.  103 

Two  potent  thrones,  that  to  be  less  than  gods 

Disdain'd,  but  meaner  thoughts  learn'd  in  their  flight, 

Mangled  with  ghastly  wounds  through  plate  and  mail. 

Nor  stood  unmindful  Abdiel  to  annoy 

The  atheist  crew,  but  with  redoubled  blow 

Ariel  and  Arioch,  and  the  violence 

Of  Ramiel,  scorch' d  and  blasted,  overthrew. 

I  might  relate  of  thousands,  and  their  names 

Eternize  here  on  earth ;  but  those  elect 

Angels,  contented  with  their  fame  in  Heaven,  375 

Seek  not  the  praise  of  men :  the  other  sort, 

In  might  though  wondrous,  and  in  acts  of  war, 

Nor  of  renown  less  eager,  yet  by  doom 

Cancelled  from  Heaven  and  sacred  memory, 

Nameless  in  dark  oblivion  let  them  dwell. 

For  strength,  from  truth  divided  and  from  just, 

Illaudable,  naught  merits  but  dispraise 

And  ignominy,  yet  to  glory  aspires 

Vain-glorious,  and  through  infamy  seeks  fame : 

Therefore  eternal  silence  be  their  doom.  885 

"  And  now  their  mightiest  quell'd,  the  battle  swerved, 
With  many  an  inroad  gored ;  deformed  rout 
Entered,  and  foul  disorder ;  all  the  ground 
With  shivered  armor  strown,  and  on  a  heap 
Chariot  and  charioteer  lay  overturned, 
And  fiery  foaming  steeds ;  what  stood,  recoil'd 
Overwearied,  through  the  faint  Satanic  host 
Defensive  scarce,  or  with  pale  fear  surprised, 
Then  first  with  fear  surprised  and  sense  of  pain, 
Fled  ignominious,  to  such  evil  brought 
By  sin  of  disobedience,  till  that  hour 
Not  liable  to  fear,  or  flight,  or  pain.  897 

Far  otherwise,  the  inviolable  saints 
In  cubic  phalanx  firm  advanced  entire, 
Invulnerable,  impenetrably  arm'd ; 
Such  high  advantages  their  innocence 
Gave  them  above  their  foes,  not  to  have  sinn'd, 
Not  to  have  disobey'd ;  in  sight  they  stood 
Unwearied,  unobnoxious  to  be  pain'd 
By  wound,  though  from  their  place  by  violence  moved. 

"  Now  night  her  course  began,  and  over  Heaven 
Inducing  darkness,  grateful  truce  imposed, 
And  silence  on  the  odious  din  of  war : 


164  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  IB.  vi. 

Under  her  cloudy  covert  both  retired, 

Victor  and  vanquish'd.     On  the  foughten  field 

Michael  and  his  angels  prevalent 

Encamping,  placed  in  guard  their  watches  round, 

Cherubic  waving  fires :  on  the  other  part 

Satan  with  his  rebellious  disappeared, 

Far  in  the  dark  dislodged ;  and,  void  of  rest, 

His  potentates  to  council  call'd  by  night ; 

And  in  the  midst  thus  undismayed  began : 

"  c  0  now  in  danger  tried,  now  known  in  arms       418 
Not  to  be  overpower'd,  companions  dear, 
Found  worthy  not  of  liberty  alone, 
Too  mean  pretence,  but,  what  we  more  affect, 
Honor,  dominion,  glory,  and  renown ; 
"Who  have  sustain'd  one  day  in  doubtful  fight 
(And  if  one  day,  why  not  eternal  days  ?) 
What  Heaven's  Lord  had  powerfullest  to  send 
Against  us  from  about  his  throne,  and  judged 
Sufficient  to  subdue  us  to  his  will, 
But  proves  not  so :  then  fallible,  it  seems, 
Of  future  we  may  deem  him,  though  till  now  429 

Omniscient  thought.    True  is,  less  firmly  arm'd, 
Some  disadvantage  we  endured  and  pain, 
Till  now  not  known,  but  known,  as  soon  contemned ; 
Since  now  we  find  this  our  empyreal  form 
Incapable  of  mortal  injury, 
Imperishable,  and,  though  pierced  with  wound, 
Soon  closing,  and  by  native  vigor  heal'd. 
Of  evil  then  so  small,  as  easy  think 
The  remedy ;  perhaps  more  valid  arms, 
"Weapons  more  violent,  when  next  we  meet, 
May  serve  to  better  us,  and  worse  our  foes,  440 

Or  equal  what  between  us  made  the  odds, 
In  nature  none :  if  other  hidden  cause 
Left  them  superior,  while  we  can  preserve 
Unhurt  our  minds  and  understanding  sound, 
Due  search  and  consultation  will  disclose.' 

"  He  sat ;  and  in  the  assembly  next  upstood 
Nisroch,  of  principalities  the  prime ; 
As  one  he  stood  escaped  from  cruel  fight, 
Sore  toil'd,  his  riven  arms  to  havoc  hewn, 
And  cloudy  in  aspect  thus  answering  spake : 

"  l  Deliverer  from  new  lords,  leader  to  free  451 


B.  VI.]  PARADISE    LOST.  165 

Enjoyment  of  our  right  as  gods ;  yet  hard 

For  gods,  and  too  unequal  work  we  find, 

Against  unequal  arms  to  fight  in  pain, 

Against  unpain'd,  impassive ;  from  which  evil 

Kuin  must  needs  ensue ;  for  what  avails 

Valor  or  strength,  though  matchless,  quell'd  with  pain 

Which  all  subdues,  and  makes  remiss  the  hands 

Of  mightiest  ?    Sense  of  pleasure  we  may  well 

Spare  out  of  life  perhaps,  and  not  repine, 

But  live  content,  which  is  the  calmest  life :  461 

But  pain  is  perfect  misery,  the  worst 

Of  evils,  and,  excessive,  overturns 

All  patience.    He  who  therefore  can  invent 

With  what  more  forcible  we  may  offend 

Our  yet  unwounded  enemies,  or  arm 

Ourselves  with  like  defence,  to  me  deserves 

No  less  than  for  deliverance  what  we  owe.' 

"  Whereto  with  look  composed  Satan  replied : 
4  Not  unin vented  that,  which  thou  aright 
Believ'st  so  main  to  our  success,  I  bring. 
Which  of  us  who  beholds  the  bright  surface  472 

Of  this  ethereous  mould  whereon  we  stand, 
This  continent  of  spacious  Heaven,  adorn'd 
With  plant,  fruit,  flower  ambrosial,  gems,  and  gold ; 
Whose  eye  so  superficially  surveys 
These  things,  as  not  to  mind  from  whence  they  grow 
Deep  under  ground,  materials  dark  and  crude, 
Of  spiritous  and  fiery  spume,  till  touched 
With  Heaven's  ray,  and  temper'd,  they  shoot  forth 
So  beauteous,  opening  to  the  ambient  light  ? 
These  in  their  dark  nativity  the  deep 
Shall  yield  us  pregnant  with  infernal  flame ;  483 

Which  into  hollow  engines  long  and  round 
Thick-ramm'd,  at  the  other  bore  with  touch  of  fire 
Dilated  and  infuriate,  shall  send  forth 
From  far,  with  thundering  noise,  among  our  foes 
Such  implements  of  mischief,  as  shall  dash 
To  pieces,  and  overwhelm  whatever  stands 
Adverse,  that  they  shall  fear  we  have  disarmed 
The  Thunderer  of  his  only  dreaded  bolt. 
Nor  long  shall  be  our  labor ;  yet  ere  dawn 
Effect  shall  end  our  wish.    Meanwhile  revive ; 
Abandon  fear;  to  strength  and  counsel  join'd  494 


166  MILTON  S    POETICAL   WORKS.  [B.  VI. 

Think  nothing  hard,  much  less  to  be  despaired.' 

"He  ended,  and  his  words  their  drooping  cheer 
Enlighten'd,  and  their  languish'd  hope  revived. 
The  invention  all  admired,  and  each  how  he 
To  he  the  inventor  missM ;  so  easy  it  seem'd 
Once  found,  which  yet  unfound  most  would  have  thought 
Impossible :  yet  haply  of  thy  race, 
In  future  days,  if.  malice  should  abound, 
Some  one,  intent  on  mischief,  or  inspired 
"With  devilish  machination,  might  devise  504 

Like  instrument  to  plague  the  sons  of  men 
For  sin,  on  war  and  mutual  slaughter  bent. 
Forthwith  from  council  to  the  work  they  flew ; 
None  arguing  stood ;  innumerable  hands 
"Were  ready ;  in  a  moment  up  they  turned 
"Wide  the  celestial  soil,  and  saw  beneath 
The  originals  of  nature  in  their  crude 
Conception;  sulphurous  and  nitrous  foam 
They  found,  they  mingled,  and  with  subtle  art, 
Concocted  and  adjusted,  they  reduced 
To  blackest  grain,  and  into  store  convey'd :  515 

Part  hidden  veins  digg'd  up  (nor  hath  this  earth 
Entrails  unlike)  of  mineral  and  stone, 
"Whereof  to  found  their  engines  and  their  balls 
Of  missive  ruin ;  part  incentive  reed 
Provide,  pernicious  with  one  touch  to  fire. 
So  all,  ere  day-spring,  under  conscious  night, 
Secret  they  finished  and  in  order  set, 
"With  silent  circumspection  unespied. 

"  Now  when  fair  morn  orient  in  Heaven  appeared, 
Up  rose  the  victor  angels,  and  to  arms 
The  matin  trumpet  sung:  in  arms  they  stood  526 

Of  golden  panoply,  refulgent  host, 
Soon  banded ;  others  from  the  dawning  hills 
Look'd  round,  and  scouts  each  coast  light-armed  scour, 
Each  quarter,  to  descry  the  distant  foe, 
"Where  lodged,  or  whither  fled,  OF  if  for  fight, 
In  motion  or  in  halt :  him  soon  they  met 
Under  spread  ensigns  moving  nigh,  in  slow 
But  firm  battalion ;  back  with  speediest  sail 
Zophiel,  of  cherubim  the  swiftest  wing, 
Came  flying,  and  in  mid  air  aloud  thus  cried : 

" l  Arm,  warriors,  arm  for  fight;  the  foe  at  hand,  537 


D.  V*.]  PARADISE    LOST.  167 

Whom  fled  we  thought,  will  save  ns  long  pursuit 
This  day  ;  fear  not  his  flight;  so  thick  a  cloud 
He  comes,  and  settled  in  his  face  I  see 
Sad  resolution  and  secure :  let  each 
His  adamantine  coat  gird  well,  and  each 
Fit  well  his  helm,  gripe  fast  his  orbed  shield, 
Borne  even  on  high;  for  this  day  will  pour  down, 
If  I  conjecture  aught,  no  drizzling  shower, 
But  rattling  storm  of  arrows  barb'd  with  fire.' 

44  So  warn'd  he  them,  aware  themselves,  and  soon  547 
In  order,  quit  of  all  impediment ; 
Instant  without  disturb  they  took  alarm, 
And  onward  moved  embattled ;  when  behold 
Not  distant  far  with  heavy  pace  the  foe 
Approaching,  gross  and  huge,  in  hollow  cube 
Training  his  devilish  enginery,  impaled 
On  every  side  with  shadowing  squadrons  deep, 
To  hide  the  fraud.    At  interview  both  stood 
A  while ;  but  suddenly  at  head  appeared 
Satan,  and  thus  was  heard  commanding  loud : 

44 4  Vanguard,  to  right  and  left  the  front  unfold  ;      558 
That  all  may  see  who  hate  us,  how  we  seek 
Peace  and  composure,  and  with  open  breast 
Stand  ready  to  receive  them,  if  they  like 
Our  overture,  and  turn  not  back  perverse : 
But  that  I  doubt ;  however,  witness  Heaven, 
Heaven  witness  thou  anon,  while  we  discharge 
Freely  our  part ;  ye  who  appointed  stand, 
Do  as  you  have  in  charge,  and  briefly  touch 
What  we  propound,  and  loud,  that  all  may  hear.' 

44  So  scoffing  in  ambiguous  words,  he  scarce 
Had  ended,  when  to  right  and  left  the  front  569 

Divided,  and  to  either  flank  retired ; 
Which  to  our  eyes  discovered,  new  and  strange, 
A  triple  mounted  row  of  pillars  laid 
On  wheels,  (for  like  to  pillars  most  they  seem'd, 
Or  hollow'd  bodies  made  of  oak  or  fir, 
With  branches  lopt,  in  wood  or  mountai  a  fell'd,) 
Brass,  iron,  stony  mould,  had  not  their  mouths 
With  hideous  orifice  gaped  on  us  wide, 
Portending  hollow  truce ;  at  each  behind 
A  seraph  stood,  and  in  his  hand  a  reed 
Stood  waving  tipt  with  fire ;  while  we  suspense         580 


168  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  FB.  vi. 

Collected  stood  within  our  thoughts  amused, 

Not  long,  for  sudden  all  at  once  their  reeds 

Put  forth,  and  to  a  narrow  vent  applied 

With  nicest  touch.    Immediate  in  a  flame, 

But  soon  obscured  with  smoke,  all  Heaven  appeared, 

From  those  deep-throated  engines  belch'd,  whose  roar 

Embowell'd  with  outrageous  noise  the  air, 

And  all  her  entrails  tore,  disgorging  foul 

Their  devilish  glut,  chain'd  thunderbolts  and  hail 

Of  iron  globes ;  which  on  the  victor  host  590 

LevelPd,  with  such  impetuous  fury  smote, 

That  whom  they  hit,  none  on  their  feet  might  stand, 

Though  standing  else  as  rocks,  but  down  they  fell 

By  thousands,  angel  on  archangel  roll'd ; 

The  sooner  for  their  arms :  unarm' d  they  might 

Have  easily  as  spirits  evaded  swift 

By  quick  contraction  or  remove ;  but  now 

Foul  dissipation  followed  and  forced  rout ; 

NOT  served  it  to  relax  their  serried  files. 

What  should  they  do  ?  if  on  they  rush'd,  repulse 

Repeated,  and  indecent  overthrow  601 

Doubled,  would  render  them  yet  more  despised, 

And  to  their  foes  a  laughter ;  for  in  view 

Stood  rank'd  of  seraphim  another  row, 

In  posture  to  displode  their  second  tire 

Of  thunder :  back  defeated  to  return 

They  worse  abhorr'd.    Satan  beheld  their  plight, 

And  to  his  mates  thus  in  derision  call'd : 

" c  O  friends,  why  come  not  on  these  victors  proud  ? 
Erewhile  they  fierce  were  coming ;  and  when  we 
To  entertain  them  fair  with  open  front  611 

And  breast  (what  could  we  more  ?)  propounded  terms 
Of  composition,  straight  they  changed  their  minds, 
Flew  off,  and  into  strange  vagaries  fell, 
As  they  would  dance ;  yet  for  a  dance  they  seem'd 
Somewhat  extravagant  and  wild,  perhaps 
For  joy  of  offer'd  peace :  but  I  suppose, 
If  our  proposals  once  again  were  heard, 
We  should  compel  them  to  a  quick  result.1 

"  To  whom  thus  Belial  in  like  gamesome  mood  : 
4  Leader,  the  terms  we  sent  were  terms  of  weight, 
Of  hard  contents,  and  full  of  force  urged  home, 
Such  as  we  might  perceive  amused  them  all,  6*23 


B.  VJ.J  PARADISE   LOST.  169 

And  stumbled  many ;  who  receives  them  right,, 
Had  need  from  head  to  foot  well  understand- 
Not  understood,  this  gift  they  have  besides, 
They  show  us  when  our  foes  walk  not  upright.' 
"  So  they  among  themselves  in  pleasant  vein 
Stood  scoffing,  heightened  in  their  thoughts  beyond 
All  doubt  of  victory ;  eternal  might 
To  match  with  their  inventions  they  presumed 
So  easy,  and  of  his  thunder  made  a  scorn, 
And  all  his  host  derided,  while  they  stood  63 3 

A  while  in  trouble  :  but  they  stood  not  long ; 
Eage  prompted  them  at  length,  and  found  them  arms 
Against  such  hellish  mischief  fit  to  oppose. 
Forthwith  (behold  the  excellence,  the  power, 
Which  God  hath  in  his  mighty  angels  placed) 
Their  arms  away  they  threw,  and  to  the  hills 
(For  earth  hath  this  variety  from  Heaven 
Of  pleasure  situate  in  hill  and  dale) 
Light  as  the  lightning  glimpse  they  ran,  they  flew ; 
From  their  foundations  loosening  to  and  fro 
They  pluck'd  the  seated  hills  with  all  their  load,         644 
Rocks,  waters,  woods,  and  by  the  shaggy  tops 
Uplifting  bore  them  in  their  hands.     Amaze, 
Be  sure,  and  terror  seized  the  rebel  host, 
When  coming  towards  them  so  dread  they  saw 
The  bottom  of  the  mountains  upward  turn'd ; 
Till  on  those  cursed  engines  triple-row 
They  saw  them  whelm'd,  and  all  their  confidence 
Under  the  weight  of  mountains  buried  deep ; 
Themselves  invaded  next,  and  on  their  heads 
Main  promontories  flung,  which  in  the  air  654 

Came  shadowing,  and  oppressed  whole  legions  arm'd : 
Their  armor  help'd  their  harm,  crush'd  in  and  bruised 
Into  their  substance  pent,  which  wrought  them  pain 
Implacable,  and  many  a  dolorous  groan, 
Long  struggling  underneath,  ere  they  could  wind 
Out  of  such  prison,  though  spirits  of  purest  light, 
Purest  at  first,  now  gross  by  sinning  grown. 
The  rest  in  imitation  to  like  arms 
Betook  them,  and  the  neighboring  hills  uptore ; 
So  hills  amid  the  air  encountered  hills, 
Hurl'd  to  and  fro  with  jaculation  dire, 
That  under  ground  they  fought  in  dismal  shade;         666 

15 


170  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  vi. 

Infernal  noise !  war  seem'd  a  civil  game 
To  this  uproar ;  horrid  confusion  heap'd 
Upon  confusion  rose.    And  now  all  Heaven 
Had  gone  to  wrack,  with  ruin  overspread, 
Had  not  the  almighty  Father,  where  he  sits 
Shrined  in  his  sanctuary  of  Heaven  secure, 
Consulting  on  the  sum  of  things,  foreseen 
This  tumult,  and  permitted  all,  advised ; 
That  his  great  purpose  he  might  so  fulfil, 
To  honor  his  anointed  Son  avenged  676 

Upon  his  enemies,  and  to  declare 
All  power  on  him  transferred :  whence  to  his  Son, 
The  assessor  of  his  throne,  he  thus  "began : 
u  l  Effulgence  of  my  glory,  Son  beloved, 
Son  in  whose  face  invisible  is  beheld, 
Visibly,  what  by  deity  I  am, 
And  in  whose  hand  what  by  decree  I  do, 
Second  Omnipotence,  two  days  are  past, 
Two  days,  as  we  compute  the  days  of  Heaven, 
Since  Michael  and  his  powers  went  forth  to  tame 
These  disobedient :  sore  hath  been  their  fight,  687 

As  likeliest  was,  when  two  such  foes  met  arin'd ; 
For  to  themselves  I  left  them,  and  thou  know'st, 
Equal  in  their  creation  they  were  form'd, 
Save  what  sin  hath  impaired,  which  yet  hath  wrought 
Insensibly,  for  I  suspend  their  doom ; 
Whence  in  perpetual  fight  they  needs  must  last 
Endless,  and  no  solution  will  be  found. 
War  wearied  hath  performed  what  war  can  do, 
And  to  disorder'd  rage  let  loose  the  reins, 
With  mountains  as  with  weapons  arm'd,  which  makes 
Wild  work  in  Heaven,  and  dangerous  to  the  main.      698 
Two  days  are  therefore  past,  the  third  is  thine; 
For  thee  I  have  ordain'd  it,  and  thus  far 
Have  suffered,  that  the  glary  may  be  thine 
Of  ending  this  great  war,  since  none  but  thou 
Can  end  it.     Into  thee  such  virtue  and  grace 
Immense  I  have  transfused,  that  all  may  know 
In  Heaven  and  Hell  thy  power  above  compare ; 
And  this  perverse  commotion  governed  thus, 
To  manifest  thee  worthiest  to  be  Heir 
Of  all  things,  to  be  Heir  and  to  be  King 
By  sacred  unction,  thy  deserved  right.  709 


B.   VI.]  PARADISE    LOST.  171 

Go  then,  thou  Mightiest,  in  thy  Father's  might, 
Ascend  my  chariot,  guide  the  rapid  wheels 
That  shake  Heaven's  basis,  bring  forth  ah1  my  war, 
My  bow  and  thunder,  my  almighty  arms 
Gird  on,  and  sword  upon  thy  puissant  thigh ; 
Pursue  these  sons  of  darkness,  drive  them  out 
From  all  Heaven's  bounds  into  the  utter  deep : 
There  let  them  learn,  as  likes  them,  to  despise 
God,  and  Messiah  his  anointed  king.' 

"He  said,  and  on  his  Son  with  rays  direct  71 S 

Shone  full ;  he  all  his  Father  full  express'd 
Ineffably  into  his  face  received  ; 
And  thus  the  filial  Godhead  answering  spake : 

" 4  0  Father,  O  Supreme  of  heavenly  thrones, 
First,  Highest,  Holiest,  Best,  thou  always  seek'st 
To  glorify  thy  Son,  I  always  thee, 
As  is  most  just;  this  I  my  glory  account, 
My  exaltation,  and  my  whole  delight, 
That  thou  in  me,  well  pleased,  declar'st  thy  will 
Fulfill'd,  which  to  fulfil  is  all  my  bliss. 
Sceptre  and  power,  thy  giving,  I  assume,  730 

And  gladlier  shall  resign,  when  in  the  end 
Thou  shalt  be  all  in  all,  and  I  in  thee 
Forever,  and  in  me  all  whom  thou  lov'st : 
But  whcrn  thou  hat'st,  I  hate,  and  can  put  on 
Thy  terrors,  as  I  put  thy  mildness  on, 
Image  of  thee  in  all  things ;  and  shall  soon, 
Arm'd  with  thy  might,  rid  Heaven  of  these  rebell'd, 
To  their  prepared  ill  mansion  driven  down, 
To  chains  of  darkness  and  the  undying  worm, 
That  from  thy  just  obedience  could  revolt, 
Whom  to  obey  is  happiness  entire.  741 

Then  shall  thy  saints  unmix'd,  and  from  the  impure 
Far  separate,  circling  thy  holy  mount, 
Unfeigned  hallelujahs  to  thee  sing, 
Hymns  of  high  praise,  and  I  among  them  chief.' 

"  So  said,  he,  o'er  his  sceptre  bowing,  rose 
From  the  right  hand  of  glory  where  he  sat ; 
And  the  third  sacred  morn  began  to  shine, 
Dawning  thro'  Heav'n :  forth  rush'd  with  whirlwind  sound 
The  chariot,  of  paternal  Deity, 
Flashing  thick  flames,  wheel  within  wheel  undrawn, 
Itself  instinct  with  spirit,  but  convoy'd  752 


172  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  vi 

By  four  cherubic  shapes ;  four  faces  each 
Had  wondrous ;  as  with  stars  their  bodies  all 
And  wings  were  set  with  eyes,  with  eye  the  wheels 
Of  beryl,  and  careering  fires  between ; 
Over  their  heads  a  crystal  firmament, 
Whereon  a  sapphire  throne,  inlaid  with  pure 
Amber,  and  colors  of  the  showery  arch. 
He  in  celestial  panoply  all  arm'd 
Of  radiant  Urim,  work  divinely  wrought, 
Ascended :  at  his  right  hand  victory  7GiJ 

Sat  eagle-wing' d ;  beside  him  hung  his  bow 
And  quiver  with  three-bolted  thunder  stored, 
And  from  about  him  fierce  effusion  roll'd 
Of  smoke  and  bickering  flame  and  sparkles  dire : 
Attended  with  ten  thousand  thousand  saints 
He  onward  came ;  far  off  his  coming  shone ; 
And  twenty  thousand  (I  their  number  heard) 
Chariots  of  God,  half  on  each  hand  were  seen : 
He  on  the  wings  of  cherub  rode  sublime 
On  the  crystalline  sky,  in  sapphire  throned, 
Illustrious  far  and  wide,  but  by  his  own  773 

First  seen ;  them  unexpected  joy  surprised, 
When  the  great  ensign  of  Messiah  blazed 
Aloft  by  angels  borne,  his  sign  in  Heaven ; 
Under  whose  conduct  Michael  soon  reduced 
His  army,  circumfused  on  either  wing, 
Under  their  Head  embodied  all  in  one. 
Before  him  power  divine  his  way  prepared : 
At  his  command  the  uprooted  hills  retired 
Each  to  his  place ;  they  heard  his  voice,  and  went 
Obsequious ;  Heaven  his  wonted  face  renew'd, 
And  with  fresh  flowerets  hill  and  valley  smiled.          784 
This  saw  his  hapless  foes,  but  stood  obdured, 
And  to  rebellious  fight  rallied  their  powers 
Insensate,  hope  conceiving  from  despair. 
In  heavenly  spirits  could  such  perverseness  dwell, 
But  to  convince  the  proud  what  signs  avail, 
Or  wonders  move,  the  obdurate  to  relent  2 
They,  hardened  more  by  what  might  most  reclaim, 
Grieving  to  see  his  glory,  at  the  sight 
Took  envy;  and,  aspiring  to  his  height, 
•Bood  re-embattled  fierce,  by  force  or  fraud 
Weening  to  prosper,  and  at  length  prevail  795 


VI.]  PARADISE   LOST. 

Against  God  and  Messiah,  or  to  fall 

In  universal  ruin  last ;  and  now 

To  final  battle  drew,  disdaining  flight, 

Or  faint  retreat ;  when  the  great  Son  of  God 

To  all  his  host  on  either  hand  thus  spake : 

" '  Stand  still  in  bright  array,  ye  saints,  here  stand 
Ye  angels  arm'd,  this  day  from  battle  rest ; 
Faithful  hath  been  your  warfare,  and  of  God 
Accepted,  fearless  in  his  righteous  cause, 
And  as  ye  have  received,  so  have  ye  done  80S 

Invincibly ;  but  of  this  cursed  crew 
The  punishment  to  other  hand  belongs ; 
Vengeance  is  his,  or  whose  he  sole  appoints : 
Number  to  this  day's  work  is  not  ordain'd, 
Nor  multitude ;  stand  only  and  behold 
God's  indignation  on  these  godless  pourM 
By  me ;  not  you,  but  me,  they  have  despised, 
Yet  envied ;  against  me  is  all  their  rage, 
Because  the  Father,  to  whom  in  Heaven  supreme 
Kingdom,  and  power,  and  glory  appertains, 
Hath  honor'd  me  according  to  his  will.  816 

Therefore  to  me  their  doom  he  hath  assign' d ; 
That  they  may  have  their  wish,  to  try  with  me 
In  battle  which  the  stronger  proves,  they  all, 
Or  I  alone  against  them,  since  by  strength 
They  measure  all,  of  other  excellence 
Not  emulous,  nor  care  who  them  excels ; 
Nor  other  strife  with  them  do  I  vouchsafe.' 

"  So  spake  the  Son,  and  into  terror  changed 
His  countenance,  too  severe  to  be  beheld, 
And  full  of  wrath  bent  on  his  enemies. 
At  once  the  four  spread  out  their  starry  wings  327 

With  dreadful  shade  contiguous,  and  the  orbs 
Of  his  fierce  chariot  roll'd,  as  with  the  sound 
Of  torrent  floods,  or  of  a  numerous  host. 
He  on  his  impious  foes  right  onward  drove, 
Gloomy  as  night ;  under  his  burning  wheels 
The  steadfast  empyrean  shook  throughout, 
All  but  the  throne  itself  of  God.    Full  soon 
Among  them  he  arrived,  in  his  right  hand 
Grasping  ten  thousand  thunders,  which  he  sent 
Before  him,  such  as  in  their  souls  infix'd 
Plagues ;  they,  astonish'd,  all  resistance  lost,  838 


I  74  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  vi, 

All  courage ;  down  their  idle  weapons  dropt ; 

O'er  shields  and  helms  and  helmed  heads  he  rode 

Of  thrones  and  mighty  seraphim  prostrate, 

That  wish'd  the  mountains  now  might  he  again 

Thrown  on  them  as  a  shelter  from  his  ire. 

Nor  less  on  either  side  tempestuous  fell 

His  arrows,  from  the  fourfold- visaged  four 

Distinct  with  eyes,  and  from  the  living  wheels 

Distinct  alike  with  multitude  of  eyes ; 

One  spirit  in  them  ruled,  and  every  eye  848 

Glared  lightning,  and  shot  forth  pernicious  fire 

Among  the  accursed,  that  withered  all  their  strength, 

And  of  their  wonted  vigor  left  them  drain'd, 

Exhausted,  spiritless,  afflicted,  fallen. 

Yet  half  his  strength  he  put  not  forth,  but  check'd 

His  thunder  in  mid- volley ;  for  he  meant 

Not  to  destroy,  hut  root  them  out  of  Heaven : 

The  overthrown  he  raised,  and,  as  a  herd 

Of  goats  or  timorous  flock  together  throng'd, 

Drove  them  before  him  thunderstruck,  pursued, 

With  terrors  and  with  furies,  to  the  bounds  850 

And  crystal  wall  of  Heaven,  which  opening  wide, 

Koll'd  inward,  and  a  spacious  gap  disclosed 

Into  the  wasteful  deep ;  the  monstrous  sight 

Struck  them  with  horror  backward,  but  far  worse 

Urged  them  behind ;  headlong  themselves  they  threw 

Down  from  the  verge  of  Heaven ;  eternal  wrath 

Burnt  after  them  to  the  bottomless  pit. 

u  Hell  heard  the  unsufferable  noise,  Hell  saw 
Heaven  ruining  from  Heaven,  and  would  have  fled 
Affrighted ;  but  strict  Fate  had  cast  too  deep 
Her  dark  foundations,  and  too  fast  had  bound.  870 

Nine  days  they  fell ;  confounded  Chaos  roar'd, 
And  felt  tenfold  confusion  in  their  fall 
Through  his  wild  anarchy,  so  huge  a  rout 
Encumber'd  him  with  ruin ;  Hell  at  last 
Yawning  received  them  whole,  and  on  them  closed ; 
Hell  their  fit  habitation,  fraught  with  fire 
Unquenchable,  the  house  of  woe  and  pain. 
Disburdened  Heaven  rejoiced,  and  soon  repaired 
Her  mural  breach,  returning  whence  it  roll'd. 
Sole  victor  from  the  expulsion  of  his  foes 
Messiah  his  triumphal  chariot  turn'd :  881 


B.   VI. j  PARADISE    LOST,  175 

To  meet  hira  all  his  saints,  who  silent  stood 

Eye-witnesses  of  his  almighty  acts, 

With  jubilee  advanced  ;  and  as  they  went, 

Shaded  with  branching  palm,  each  order  bright 

Sung  triumph,  and  him  sung  victorious  King, 

Son,  Heir,  and  Lord,  to  him  dominion  given, 

Worthiest  to  reign :  he  celebrated  rode 

Triumphant  through  mid  Heaven,  into  the  courts 

And  temple  of  his  mighty  Father  throned  891 

On  high ;  who  into  glory  him  received, 

Where  now  he  sits  at  the  right  hand  of  bliss. 

"  Thus  measuring  things  in  Heaven  by  things  on  earth, 
At  thy  request,  and  that  thou  mayst  beware 
By  what  is  past,  to  thee  I  have  reveal'd 
What  might  have  else  to  human  race  been  hid.; 
The  discord  which  befell,  and  war  in  Heaven 
Among  the  angelic  powers,  and  the  deep  fall 
Of  those  too  high  aspiring,  who  rebell'd 
With  Satan  ;  he  who  envies  now  thy  state, 
Who  now  is  plotting  how  he  may  seduce  902 

Thee  also  from  obedience,  that  with  him, 
Bereaved  of  happiness,  thou  mayst  partake 
His  punishment,  eternal  misery ; 
Which  would  be  all  his  solace  and  revenge, 
As  a  despite  done  against  the  Most  High, 
Thee  once  to  gain  companion  of  his  woe. 
But  listen  not  to  his  temptations,  warn 
Thy  weaker ;  let  it  profit  thee  to  have  heard, 
By  terrible  example,  the  reward 
Of  disobedience ;  firm  they  might  have  stood, 
Yet  fell:  remember,  acd  fear  to  transgress," 


PARADISE   LOST. 


BOOK  VII. 

THE    ARGUMENT. 

Raphael,  at  the  request  of  Adam,  relates  how  and  wherefore  this  world  wns  first 
created ;  that  God,  after  the  expelling  of  Satan  and  his  angels  out  of  Heaven,  de 
clared  his  pleasure  to  create  another  world  and  other  creatures  to  dwell  therein  ; 
sends  his  Son  with  glory  and  attendance  of  angels  to  perform  the  work  of  creation 
iu  six  days :  the  angels  celebrate  with  hymns  the  performance  thereof,  and  his  re 
ascension  into  Heaven. 

DESCEND  from  Heaven,  Urania,  by  that  name 

If  rightly  thou  art  call'd,  whose  voice  divine 

Following,  above  the  Olympian  hill  I  soar,  % 

Above  the  flight  of  Pegasean  wing. 

The  meaning,  not  the  name,  I  call :  for  thon 

Nor  of  the  Muses  nine,  nor  on  the  top 

Of  old  Olympus  dwell'st,  but,  heavenly  born, 

Before  the  hills  appeared,  or  fountain  flow'd, 

Thou  with  eternal  wisdom  didst  converse, 

AVisdom  thy  sister,  and  with  her  didst  play 

In  presence  of  the  almighty  Father,  pleased 

With  thy  celestial  song,    tip  led  by  thee 

Into  the  Heaven  of  Heavens  I  have  presumed, 

An  earthly  guest,  and  drawn  empyreal  air,  14 

Thy  tempering ;  with  like  safety  guided  down, 

Return  me  to  my  native  element : 

Lest  from  this  flying  steed  unrein'd,  (as  once 

Bellerophon,  though  from  a  lower  clime,) 

Dismounted,  on  the  Aleian  field  I  fall, 

Erroneous  there  to  wander,  and  forlorn. 

Half  yet  remains  unsung,  but  narrower  bound 

"Within  the  visible  diurnal  sphere ; 

Standing  on  earth,  not  rapt  above  the  pole, 

More  safe  I  sing  with  mortal  voice,  unchanged 

To  hoarse  or  mute,  though  fallen  on  evil  days,          25 


B.  VII. j  PARADISE    LOST.  1  77 

On  evil  days  though  fallen,  and  evil  tongues; 
In  darkness,  and  with  dangers  compass'd  round, 
And  solitude  ;  yet  not  alone,  while  thou 
Visit'st  my  slumbers  nightly,  or  when  morn 
Purples  the  east :  still  govern  thou  my  song, 
Urania,  and  fit  audience  find,  though  few. 
But  drive  far  off  the  barbarous  dissonance 
Of  Bacchus  and  his  revellers,  the  race 
Of  that  wild  rout  that  tore  the  Thracian  bard 
In  Khodope,  where  woods  and  rocks  had  ears  Sfi 

To  rapture,  till  the  savage  elamor  drown'd 
Both  harp  and  voice ;  nor  -could  the  Muse  defend 
Her  son.    So  fail  not  thou,  who  thee  implores ; 
For  thou  art  heavenly,  she  an  empty  dream. 
Say,  goddess,  what  ensued  when  Raphael, 
The  affable  archangel,  had  forewara'd 
Adam  by  dire  example  to  beware 
Apostasy,  by  what  befellin  Heaven 
To  those  apostates,  lest  the  like  befall 
In  Paradise  to  Adam  or  his  race, 

•Charged  not  to  touch  the  interdicted  tree,  4C 

If  they  transgress,  and  slight  that  sole  command, 
So  easily  obey'd,  amid  the  choice 
Of  all  tastes  else  to  please  their  appetite, 
Though  wandering.     He  with  his  consorted  Ev-e 
The  story  heard  attentive,  and  was  fill'd 
With  admiration  and  deep  muse,  to  hear 
Of  things  so  high  and  strange,  things  to  their  thought 
So  unimaginable  as  hate  in  Heaven, 
And  war  so  near  the  peace  of  God  in  bliss 
With  sueh  -confusion :  but  the  evil,  soon 
Driven  back,  redounded  as  a  flood  on  those  57 

From  whom  it  sprung,  impossible  to  mix 
With  blessedness.     Whence  Adam  soon  repealed 
The  doubts  that  in  his  heart  arose :  and  now 
Led  on,  yet  sinless,  with  desire  to  know 
What  nearer  might  concern  him.;  how  this  world 
Of  Heaven  and  earth  conspicuous  first  began, 
When,  and  whereof  created,  for  what  cause, 
What  within  Eden  or  without  was  done 
Before  his  memory ;  as  one  whose  drought, 
Yet  scarce  allay' d,  still  eyes  the  current  stream, 
Whose  liquid  murmur  heard  new  thirst  excites1  68 


178  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  vii 

Proceeded  thus  to  ask  his  heavenly  guest : 

"  Great  things,  and  full  of  wonder  in  our  ears, 
Far  differing  from  this  world,  thou  hast  reveal'd, 
Divine  interpreter,  by  favor  sent 
Down  from  the  empyrean  to  forewarn 
Us  timely  of  what  might  else  have  been  our  loss, 
Unknown,  which  human  knowledge  could  not  reach : 
For  which  to  the  infinitely  Good  we  owe 
Immortal  thanks,  and  his  admonishment 
Receive,  with  solemn  purpose  to  observe  7£ 

Immutably  his  sovereign  will,  the  end 
Of  what  we  are.    But  since  thou  hast  vouchsafed 
Gently  for  our  instruction  to  impart 
Things  above  earthly  thought,  which  yet  concerned 
Our  knowing,  as  to  highest  wisdom  seem'd, 
Deign  to  descend  now  lower,  and  relate 
What  may  no  less  perhaps  avail  us  known ; 
How  first  began  this  Heaven  which  we  behold 
Distant  so  high,  with  moving  fires  adorn'd 
Innumerable,  and  this  which  yields  or  fills 
All  space,  the  ambient  air  wide  interfused  89 

Embracing  round  this  florid  earth ;  what  cause 
Moved  the  Creator,  in  his  holy  rest 
Through  all  eternity,  so  late  to  build 
In  Chaos,  and,  the  work  begun,  how  soon 
Absolved,  if  unforbid  thou  mayst  unfold 
What  we,  not  to  explore  the  secrets,  ask 
Of  his  eternal  empire,  but  the  more 
To  magnify  his  works,  the  more  we  know. 
And  the  great  light  of  day  yet  wants  to  run 
Much  of  his  race  though  steep ;  suspense  in  Heaven, 
Held  by  thy  voice,  thy  potent  voice,  he  hears,  100 

And  longer  will  delay  to  hear  thee  tell 
His  generation,  and  the  rising  birth 
Of  nature  from  the  unapparent  deep : 
Or  if  the  star  of  evening  and  the  moon 
Haste  to  thy  audience,  night  with  her  will  bring 
Silence,  and  sleep,  listening  to  thee,  will  watch, 
Or  we  can  bid  his  absence,  till  thy  song 
End,  and  dismiss  thee  ere  the  morning  shine." 

Thus  Adam  his  illustrious  guest  besought, 
And  thus  the  godlike  angel  answer'd  mild : 
"This  also  thy  request,  with  caution  ask'd,  111 


B.  VII.]  PARADISE    LOST.  179 

Obtain :  though  to  recount  almighty  works 

What  words  or  tongue  of  seraph  can  suffice, 

Or  heart  of  man  suffice  to  comprehend  ? 

Yet  what  thou  canst  attain,  which  best  may  serve 

To  glorify  the  Maker,  and  infer 

Thee  also  happier,  shall  not  be  withheld 

Thy  hearing ;  such  commission  from  above 

I  have  received,  to  answer  thy  desire 

Of  knowledge  within  bounds ;  beyond  abstain 

To  ask,  nor  let  thine  own  inventions  hope  121 

Things  not  reveal'd,  which  the  invisible  King, 

Only  omniscient,  hath  suppressed  in  night, 

To  none  communicable  in  earth  or  Heaven : 

Enough  is  left  besides  to  search  and  know. 

But  knowledge  is  as  food,  and  needs  no  less 

Her  temperance  over  appetite,  to  know 

In  measure  what  the  mind  may  well  contain ; 

Oppresses  else  with  surfeit,  and  soon  turns 

Wisdom  to  folly,  as  nourishment  to  wind. 

"Know  then,  that  after  Lucifer  from  Heaven 
(So  call  him,  brighter  once  amidst  the  host  132 

Of  angels  than  that  star  the  stars  among) 
Fell  with  his  flaming  legions  through  the  deep 
Into  his  place,  and  the  great  Son  returned 
Victorious  with  his  saints,  the  omnipotent 
Eternal  Father  from  his  throne  beheld 
Their  multitude,  and  to  his  Son  thus  spake : 

"  '  A  t  least  our  envious  foe  hath  fail'd,  who  thought 
All  like  himself  rebellious,  by  whose  aid 
This  inaccessible  high  strength,  the  seat 
Of  Deity  supreme,  us  dispossessed, 

He  trusted  to  have  seized,  and  into  fraud  143 

Drew  many,  whom  their  place  knows  here  no  more; 
Yet  far  the  greater  part  have  kept,  I  see, 
Their  station ;  Heaven  yet  populous  retains 
dumber  sufficient  to  possess  her  realms 
Though  wide,  and  this  high  temple  to  frequent 
With  ministeries  due  and  solemn  rites : 
But  lest  his  heart  exalt  him  in  the  harm 
Already  done,  to  have  dispeopled  Heaven, 
My  damage  fondly  deem'd,  I  can  repair 
That  detriment,  if  such  it  be  to  lose 
Self-lost,  and  in  a  moment  will  create  154 


180  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  viz 

Another  world,  out  of  one  man  a  race 

Of  men  innumerable,  there  to  dwell, 

Not  here,  till  by  degrees  of  merit-raised 

They  open  to  themselves  atTength  the  way 

Up  hither,  under  long  obedience  tried, 

And  earth  be  changed  to  Heaven,  and  Heaven  to  earth. 

One  kingdom,  joy  and  uwion  without  end. 

Meanwhile  inhabit  lax,  ye  powers  of  Heaveny 

And  thou  my  Word,  begotten  Son,  by  thee 

This  I  perform ;  speak  thou,  and  bo  it  done :  164 

My  overshadowing  Spirit  and  might  with  thee- 

I  send  along ;  ride  forth  and  bid  the  deep 

Within  appointed  bounds  be  Heaven  and  earth ; 

Boundless  the  deep,  because  I  am  who  fill 

Infinitude,  nor  vacuous  the  space. 

Though  I  uncircumscribed  myself  retire, 

And  put  not  forth  my  goodness,  which  is  free 

To  act  or  noty  necessity  and  chance 

Approach  not  naeT  and  what  I  will  is  fate. 

"  So  spake  the  Almighty  T  and  to  what  he  spake 
His  Word,  the  filial  Godhead,  gave  effect.  ?  T5 

Immediate  are  the  acts  of  God,  more  swift 
Than  time  or  motion,  but  to  human  ears 
Cannot*  without  process  of  speech  be  toldf 
So  told  as  earthly  notion  can  receive. 
Great  triumph  and  rejoicing  was  in  Heaven, 
When  such  was  heard  declared  the  Almighty's  will : 
Glory  they  sung  to  the  Most  High,  good-will 
To  future  men,  nnd  in  their  dwellings  peace : 
Glory  to  him,  whose  just  avenging  ire 
Had  driven  out  the  ungodly  from  his  sight 
And  the  habitations  of  the  just ;  to  him  186 

Glory  anr*  praise,  whose  wisdom  had  ordain'd 
Good  out  of  evil  to  create,  instead 
Of  spirits  malignT  a  better  race  to  bring 
Into  their  vacant  room,  and  thence  diffuse 
His  good  to  worlds  and  ages  infinite. 

"  So  sang  the  hierarchies :  meanwhile  the  Son 
On  his  great  expedition  now  appear'd, 
Girt  with  omnipotence,  with  radiance  crown'd 
Of  majesty  divine ;  sapience  and  love 
Immense,  and  all  his  Father  in  him  shone. 
About  his  chariot  numberless  were  pour'd  197 


B.  VII.J  PARADISE   LOST.  181 

Cherub  and  seraph,  potentates  and  ftirones, 

And  virtues,  winged  spirits,  and  chariots  wing'd 

From  the  armory  of  God,  where  stand  of  old 

Myriads  between  two  brazen  mountains  lodged 

Against  a  solemn  day,  harness'd  at  hand, 

Celestial  equipage,  and  now  came  forth 

Spontaneous,  for  within  them  spirit  lived, 

Attendant  on  their  Lord'  Heaven  open'd  wide 

Her  ever- during  gates,  harmonious  sound 

On  golden  hinges  moving,  to  let  forth  207 

The  King  of  Glory,  in  his  powerful  Word 

And  Spirit  coming  to  create  new  worlds. 

On  heavenly  ground  they  stood,  and  from  the  shore 

They  view'd  the  vast  immeasurable  abyss 

Outrageous  as  a  sea,  dark,  wasteful,  wild, 

Up  from  the  bottom  turned  by  furious  winds 

And  surging  waves,  as  mountains,  to  assault 

Heaven's  height,  and  with  the  centre  mix  the  pole. 

"  '  Silence,  ye  troubled  waves,  and  thou  deep,  peace,' 
Said  then  the  omnific  Word,  'your  discord  end  :' 
Nor  stay'd,  but  on  the  wings  of  cherubim  219 

Uplifted,  in  paternal  glory  rode 
Far  into  Chaos,  and  the  world  unborn ; 
For  Chaos  heard  his  voice.    Him  all  his  tiain 
Follow'd  in  bright  procession  to  behold 
Creation,  and  the  wonders  of  his  might. 
Then  stay'd  the  fervid  wheels,  and  in  his  hand 
-  He  took  the  golden  compasses,  prepared 
In  God's  eternal  store,  to  circumscribe 
This  universe,  and  all  created  things : 
One  foot  he  center'd,  and  the  other  turn'd 
Kound  through  the  vast  profundity  obscure,  229 

And  said :  'Thus  far  extend,  thus  far  thy  bounds, 
This  be  thy  just  circumference,  O  world.' 
Thus  God  the  Heaven  created,  thus  the  earth, 
Matter  unform'd  and  void :  darkness  profound 
Cover'd  the  abyss ;  but  on  the  watery  calm 
His  brooding  wings  the  Spirit  of  God  outspread, 
And  vital  virtue  infused,  and  vital  warmth 
Throughout  the  fluid  mass,  but  downward  purged 
The  black  tartareous  cold  infernal  dregs, 
Adverse  to  life ;  then  founded,  then  conglobed 
Like  things  to  like,  the  rest  to  several  place  240 

16 


182  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  vn 

Disparted,  and  between  spun  out  the  air, 
And  earth  self-balanced  on  her  centre  hung. 

"  'Let  there  be  light,'  said  God,  and  forthwith  light 
Ethereal,  first  of  things,  quintessence  pure, 
Sprung  from  the  deep,  and  from  her  native  east 
To  journey  through  the  airy  gloom  began, 
Sphered  in  a  radiant  cloud,  for  yet  the  sun 
Was  not ;  she  in  a  cloudy  tabernacle 
Sojourn' d  the  while.     God  saw  the  light  was  good ; 
And  light  from  darkness  by  the  hemisphere  ,250 

Divided :  light  the  day,  and  darkness  night 
He  named.     Thus  was  the  first  day  even  and  morn : 
Nor  pass'd  uncelebrated,  nor  unsung 
By  the  celestial  quires,  when  orient  light 
Exhaling  first  from  darkness  they  beheld ; 
Birthday  of  Heaven  and  earth;  with  joy  and  shout 
The  hollow  universal  orb  they  fill'd, 
And  touch'd  their  golden  harps,  and  hymning  praised 
God  and  his  works ;  Creator  him  they  sung, 
Both  when  first  evening  was,  and  when  first  morn. 

"Again,  God  said,  'Let  there  be  firmament  261 

Amid  the  waters,  and  let  it  divide 
The  waters  from  the  waters :'  and  God  made 
The  firmament,  expanse  of  liquid,  pure, 
Transparent,  elemental  air,  diffused 
In  circuit  to  the  uttermost  convex 
Of  this  great  round ;  partition  firm  and  sure, 
The  waters  underneath  from  those  above 
Dividing;  for  as  earth,  so  he  the  world 
Built  on  circumfluous  waters  calm,  in  wide 
Crystalline  ocean,  and  the  loud  misrule 
Of  Chaos  far  removed,  lest  fierce  extremes  £78 

Contiguous  might  distemper  the  whole  frame. 
And  Heaven  he  named  the  firmament :  so  even 
And  morning  chorus  sung  the  second  day. 

"  The  earth  was  form'd,  but  in  the  womb  as  yet 
Of  waters,  embryon  immature  involved, 
Appear'd  not :  over  all  the  face  of  earth 
Main  ocean  flow'd,  not  idle,  but  with  warm 
Prolific  humor  softening  all  her  globe, 
Fermented  the  great  mother  to  conceive. 
Satiate  with  genial  moisture,  when  God  said,  282 

1  Be  gather 'd  now,  ye  waters  under  Heaven, 


D.  VII.]  PARADISE    LOST.  183 

Into  one  place,  and  let  dry  land  appear.'1 

Immediately  the  mountains  huge  appear 

Emergent,  and  their  broad  bare  backs  upheave 

Into  the  clouds,  their  tops  ascend  the  sky ; 

So  high  as  heaved  the  tumid  hills,  so  low 

Down  sunk  a  hollow  bottom  broad  and  deep, 

Capacious  bed  of  waters :  thither  they 

Hasted  with  glad  precipitance,  uprolPd 

As  drops  on  dust  conglobing  from  the  dry ; 

Part  rise  in  crystal  wall,  or  ridge  direct,  29£ 

For  haste ;  such  flight  the  great  command  impressed 

On  the  swift  floods.    As  armies  at  the  call 

Of  trumpet  (for  of  armies  thou  hast  heard) 

Troop  to  their  standard,  so  the  watery  throng, 

Wave  rolling  after  wave,  where  way  they  found, 

If  steep,  with  torrent  rapture,  if  through  plain, 

Soft-ebbing ;  nor  withstood  them  rock  or  hill, 

But  they,  or  under  ground,  or  circuit  wide 

With  serpent  error  wandering,  found  their  way, 

And  on  the  washy  ooze  deep  channels  wore ; 

Easy,  ere  God  had  bid  the  ground  be  dry,  304 

All  but  within  those  banks,  where  rivers  now 

Stream,  and  perpetual  draw  their  humid  train. 

The  dry  land  earth,  and  the  great  receptacle 

Of  congregated  waters  he  calPd  seas : 

And  saw  that  it  was  good,  and  said,  4  Let  the  earth 

Put  forth  the  verdant  grass,  herb  yielding  seed, 

And  fruit-tree  yielding  fruit  after  her  kind, 

Whose  seed  is  in  herself  upon  the  earth.' 

He  scarce  had  said,  when  the  bare  earth,  till  then 

Desert  an  1  bare,  unsightly,  unadorn'd, 

Brought  lorth  the  tender  grass,  whose  verdure  clad   315 

Her  universal  face  with  pleasant  green ; 

Then  herbs  of  every  leaf,  that  sudden  flowerVl 

Opening  their  various  colors,  and  made  gay 

Her  bosom  smelling  sweet ;  and  these  scarce  blown, 

Forth  flourished  thick  the  clustering  vine,  forth  crept 

The  smelling  gourd,  up  stood  the  corny  reed 

Embattled  in  her  field,  and  the  humble  shrub, 

And  bush  with  frizzled  hair  implicit :  last 

Rose  as  in  dance  the  stately  trees,  and  spread 

Their  branches  hung  with  copious  fruit,  or  gemmM    325 

Their  blossoms;  with  high  woods  the  hills  were  crown 'd, 


184  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS  [B.  vn 

With  tufts  the  valleys,  and  each  fountain  side, 

With  borders  long  the  rivers ;  that  earth  now 

Seem'd  like  to  Heaven,  a  seat  where  gods  might  dwell, 

Or  wander  with  delight,  and  love  to  haunt 

Her  sacred  shades :  though  God  had  yet  not  rain'd 

Upon  the  earth,  and  man  to  till  the  ground 

None  was,  but  from  the  earth  a  dewy  mist 

Went  up  and  watered  all  the  ground,  and  each 

Plant  of  the  field,  which  ere  it  was  in  the  earth 

God  made,  and  every  herb,  before  it  grew  330 

On  the  green  stem.     God  saw  that  it  was  good  : 

So  even  and  morn  recorded  the  third  day. 

"Again  the. Almighty  spake:  lLet  there  be  lights 
High  in  the  expanse  of  Heaven,  to  divide 
The  day  from  night ;  and  let  them  be  for  signs. 
For  seasons,  and  for  days,  and  circling  years, 
And  let  them  be  for  lights,  as  I  ordain 
Their  office  in  the  firmament  of  Heaven, 
To  give  light  on  the  earth;'  and  it  was  so. 
And  God  made  two  great  lights,  great  for  their  use 
To  man,  the  greater  to  have  rule  by  day,  347 

The  less  by  night  altern ;  and  made  the  stars, 
And  set  them  in  the  firmament  of  Heaven 
To  illuminate  the  earth,  and  rule  the  day 
In  their  vicissitude,  and  rule  the  night, 
And  light  from  darkness  to  divide.     God  saw, 
Surveying  his  great  work,  that  it  was  good  : 
For  of  celestial  bodies  first  the  sun 
A  mighty  sphere  he  framed,  unlightsome  first, 
Though  of  ethereal  mould ;  then  form'd  the  moon 
Globose,  and  every  magnitude  of  stars, 
And  sow'd  with  stars  the  Heaven  thick  as  a  field.       358 
Of  light  by  far  the  greater  part  he  took, 
Transplanted  from  her  cloudy  shrine,  and  placed 
In  the  sun's  orb,  made  porous  to  receive 
And  drink  the  liquid  light,  firm  to  retain 
Her  gather'd  beams,  great  palace  now  of  light. 
Hither,  as  to  their  fountain,  other  stars 
Repairing,  in  their  golden  urns  draw  light, 
And  hence  the  morning  planet  gilds  her  horns ; 
By  tincture  or  reflection  they  augment 
Their  small  peculiar,  though  from  human  sight 
So  far  remote,  with  diminution  seen.  869 


.  VII.  j  PARADISE    LOST.  185 

First  in  his  east  the  glorious  lamp  was  seen, 

Regent  of  day,  and  all  the  horizon  round 

Invested  with  bright  rays,  jocund  to  run 

His  longitude  through  Heaven's  high  road ;  the  gray 

Dawn,  and  the  Pleiades  before  him  danced, 

Shedding  sweet  influence.    Less  bright  the  moon. 

But  opposite  in  levell'd  west  was  set 

His  mirror,  with  full  face  borrowing  her  light 

From  him,  for  other  light  she  needed  none 

In  that  aspect,  and  still  that  distance  keeps  37P 

Till  night,  then  in  the  east  her  turn  she  shines, 

Revolved  on  Heaven's  great  axle,  and  her  reign 

With  thousand  lesser  lights  dividual  holds, 

With  thousand  thousand  stars,  that  then  appear'd 

Spangling  the  hemisphere.     Then,  first  adorn'd 

With  their  bright  luminaries  that  set  and  rose,  • 

Glad  evening  and  glad  morn  crown'd  the  fourth  day. 

u  And  God  said,  4  Let  the  waters  generate 
Reptile  with  spawn  abundant,  living  soul : 
And  let  fowl  fly  above  the  earth,  with  wings 
Display 'd  on  the  open  firmament  of  Heaven.  390 

And  God  created  the  great  whales,  and  each 
Soul  living,  each  that  crept,  which  plenteously 
The  waters  generated  by  their  kinds, 
And  every  bird  of  wing  after  his  kind  ; 
And  saw  that  it  was  good,  and  bless'd  them,  saying, 
4  Be  fruitful,  multiply,  and  in  the  seas, 
And  lakes,  and  running  streams,  the  waters  fill ; 
And  let  the  fowl  be  multiplied  on  the  earth.' 
Forthwith  the  sounds  and  seas,  each  creek  and  bay, 
With  fry  innumerable  swarrn,  and  shoals 
Of  fish,  that  with  their  fins  and  shining  scales  401 

Glide  under  the  green  wave,  in  sculls  that  oft 
Bank  the  mid-sea :  part  single,  or  with  mate, 
Graze  the  sea-weed,  their  pasture,  and  through  grovea 
Of  coral  stray,  or  sporting,  with  quick  glance, 
Show  to  the  sun  their  waved  coats  dropt  with  gold ; 
Or  in  their  pearly  shells  at  ease,  attend 
Moist  nutriment,  or  under  rocks  their  food 
In  jointed  armor  watch :  on  smooth  the  seal, 
And  bended  dolphins,  play ;  part  huge  of  bulk 
Wallowing  unwieldy,  enormous  in  their  gait, 
Tempest  the  ocean.     There  leviathan,  412 


186  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  vn 

Hugest  of  living  creatures,  on  the  deep, 
Stretch'd  like  a  promontory,  sleeps  or  swims, 
And  seems  a  moving  land,  and  at  his  gills 
Draws  in,  and  at  his  trunk  spouts  out,  a  sea. 
Meanwhile  the  tepid  caves,  and  fens  and  shores, 
Their  brood  as  numerous  hatch,  from  the  egg  that  soon 
Bursting  with  kindly  rapture,  forth  disclosed 
Their  callow  young,  but,  feather'd  soon  and  fledge, 
They  summed  their  pens,  and,  soaring  the  air  sublime, 
"With  clang  despised  the  ground,  under  a  cloud,  422 

In  prospect ;  there  the  eagle  and  the  stork 
On  cliffs  and  cedar  tops  their  eyries  build : 
Part  loosely  wing  the  region,  part  more  wise 
In  common,  ranged  in  figure,  wedge  their  way. 
Intelligent  of  seasons,  and  set  forth 
Their  airy  caravan  high  over  seas 
Flying,  and  over  lands  with  mutual  wing 
Easing  their  flight;  so  steers  the  prudent  crane 
Her  annual  voyage,  borne  on  winds ;  the  air 
Floats,  as  they  pass,  fann'd  with  unnumber'd  plumes : 
From  branch  to  branch  the  smaller  birds  with  song   433 
Solaced  the  woods,  and  spread  their  painted  wings 
Till  even,  nor  then  the  solemn  nightingale 
,  Ceased  warbling,  but  all  night  tuned  her  soft  lays  : 
Others  on  silver  lakes  and  rivers  bathed 
Their  downy  breast ;  the  swan,  with  arched  neck 
Between  her  white  wings  mantling  proudly,  rows 
Her  state  with  oary  feet ;  yet  oft  they  quit 
The  dank,  and,  rising  on  stiff  pennons,  tower 
The  mid  aerial  sky.     Others  on  ground 
Walk'd  firm ;  the  crested  cock,  whose  clarion  sounds 
The  silent  hours,  and  the  other  whose  gay  train          444 
Adorns  him,  color'd  with  the  florid  hue 
Of  rainbows  and  starry  eyes.     The  waters  thus 
With  fish  replenished,  and  the  air  with  fowl, 
Evening  and  morn  solemnized  the  fifth  day. 

"  The  sixth,  and  of  creation  last,  arose 
With  evening  harps  and  matin,  when  God  said, 
'Let  the  earth  bring  forth  soul  living  in  her  kind. 
Cattle  and  creeping  things,  and  beast  of  the  earth, 
Each  in  their  kind.7     The  earth  obey'd,  and  straight, 
Opening  her  fertile  womb,  teem'd  at  a  birth 
In  numerous  living  creatures,  perfect  forms,  455 


B.  VII.]  PARADISE    LOST.  187 

LimVd  and  fall  grown :  out  of  the  ground  up  rose, 

As  from  his  lair,  the  wild  beast,  where  he  wons 

In  forest  wild,  in  thicket,  brake,  or  den ; 

Among  the  trees  in  pairs  they  rose,  they  walk'd  : 

The  cattle  in  the  fields  and  meadows  green : 

Those  rare  and  solitary,  these  in  flocks 

Pasturing  at  once,  and  in  broad  herds  upsprung. 

The  grassy  clods  now  calved,  now  half  appeared 

The  tawny  lion,  pawing  to  get  free 

His  hinder  parts,  then  springs  as  broke  from  bonds,    465 

And  rampant  shakes  his  brinded  mane ;  the  ounce. 

The  libbard,  and  the  tiger,  as  the  mole 

Rising,  the  crumbled  earth  above  them  threw 

In  hillocks ;  the  swift  stag  from  under  ground 

Bare  up  his  branching  head ;  scarce  from  his  mould 

Behemoth,  biggest  born  of  earth,  upheaved 

His  vastness ;  fleeced  the  flocks  and  bleating  rose, 

As  plants ;  ambiguous  between  sea  and  land 

The  river-horse  and  scaly  crocodile. 

At  once  came  forth  whatever  creeps  the  ground, 

Insect  or  worm :  those  waved  their  limber  fans          476 

For  wings,  and  smallest  lineaments  exact, 

In  all  the  liveries  deck'd  of  summer's  pride, 

With  spots  of  gold  and  purple,  azure  and  green  ; 

These  as  a  line  their  long  dimension  drew, 

Streaking  the  ground  with  sinuous  trace ;  not  all 

Minims  of  nature ;  some  of  serpent  kind, 

Wondrous  in  length  and  corpulence,  involved 

Their  snaky  folds,  and  added  wings.     First  crept 

The  parsimonious  emmet,  provident 

Of  future,  in  small  room  large  heart  inclosed, 

Pattern  of  just  equality  perhaps  487 

Hereafter,  join'd  in  her  popular  tribes 

Of  commonalty ;  swarming  next  appeared 

The  female  bee,  that  feeds  her  husband  drone 

Deliciously,  and  builds  her  waxen  cells 

With  honey  stored.     The  rest  are  numberless, 

And  thou  their  natures  know'st,  and  gav'st  them  names, 

Needless  to  thee  repeated ;  nor  unknown 

The  serpent,  subtlest  beast  of  all  the  field, 

Of  huge  extent  sometimes,  with  brazen  eyes 

And  hairy  mane  terrific,  though  to  thee 

Not  noxious,  but  obedient  at  thy  call.  498 


188  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  vil 

u  Now  Heaven  in  all  her  glory  shone,  and  roll'd 
Her  motions,  as  the  great  first  Mover's  hand 
First  wheel'd  their  course ;  earth  in  her  rich  attire 
Consummate  lovely  smiled ;  air,  water,  earth, 
By  fowl,  fish,  beast,  was  flown,  was  swum,  was  walk'd 
Frequent ;  and  of  the  sixth  day  yet  remained ; 
There  wanted  yet  the  master  work,  the  end 
Of  all  yet  done ;  a  creature  who,  not  prone 
And  brute  as  other  creatures,  but  endued 
With  sanctity  of  reason,  might  erect  508 

His  stature,  and  upright,  with  front  serene, 
Govern  the  rest,  self-knowing,  and  from  thence 
Magnanimous  to  correspond  with  Heaven, 
But  grateful  to  acknowledge  whence  his  good 
Descends ;  thither  with  heart,  and  voice,  and  eyes, 
Directed  in  devotion,  to  adore 
And  worship  God  supreme,  who  made  him  chief 
Of  all  his  works  ;  therefore  the  Omnipotent 
Eternal  Father  (for  where  is  not  he 
Present  ?)  thus  to  his  Son  audibly  spake : 

u  'Let  us  make  now  man  in  our  image,  man  510 

In  our  similitude,  and  let  them  rule 
Over  the  fish  and  fowl  of  sea  and  air, 
Beast  of  the  field,  and  over  all  the  earth, 
And  every  creeping  thing  that  creeps  the  ground.7 
This  said,  he  form'd  thee,  Adam,  thee,  O  man, 
Dust  of  the  ground,  and  in  thy  nostrils  breathed 
The  breath  of  life ;  in  his  own  image  he 
Created  thee,  in  the  image  of  God 
Express,  and  thou  becam'st  a  living  soul. 
Male  he  created  thee,  but  thy  consort 
Female  for  race ;  then  bless'd  mankind,  arid  said,        530 
4  Be  fruitful,  multiply,  and  fill  the  earth, 
Subdue  it,  and  throughout  dominion  hold 
Over  fish  of  the  sea,  and  fowl  of  the  air, 
And  every  living  thing  that  moves  on  the  earth.' 
Wherever  thus  created,  for  no  place 
Is  yet  distinct  by  name,  thence,  as  thou  know'st, 
He  brought  thee  into  this  delicious  grove, 
This  garden,  planted  with  the  trees  of  God, 
Delectable  both  to  behold  and  taste ; 
And  freely  all  their  pleasant  fruit  for  focd 
Gave  thee ;  all  sorts  are  here  that  all  the  earth  yields, 


B,  VII.]  PARADISE   LOST.  .  189 

Variety  without  end ;  but  of  the  tree, 
Which,  tasted,  works  knowledge  of  good  and  evil, 
Thou  mayst  not ;  in  the  day  thou  eat'st,  thou  diest : 
Death  is  the  penalty  imposed :  beware, 
And  govern  well  thy  appetite,  lest  Sin 
Surprise  thee,  and  her  black  attendant  Death. 
"  Here  finished  he,  and  all  that  he  had  made 
"View'd,  and  behold  all  was  entirely  good ; 
So  even  and  morn  accomplished  the  sixth  day  : 
Yet  not  till  the  Creator  from  his  work  551 

Desisting,  though  unwearied,  up  return'd, 
Up  to  the  Heaven  of  Heavens,  his  high  abode, 
Thence  to  behold  this  new-created  world, 
The  addition  of  his  empire,  how  it  show'd 
In  prospect  from  his  throne,  how  good,  how  fair, 
Answering  his  great  idea.     Up  he  rode, 
Follow'd  with  acclamation  and  the  sound 
Symphonious  of  ten  thousand  harps  that  tuned 
Angelic  harmonies:  the  earth,  the  air 
Resounded,  (thou  remember'st,  for  thou  heard'st,) 
The  Heavens  and  all  the  constellations  rung,  562 

The  planets  in  their  station  listening  stood, 
While  the  bright  pomp  ascended  jubilant. 
1  Open,  ye  everlasting  gates,'  they  sung, 
'  Open,  ye  Heavens,  your  living  doors ;  let  in 
The  great  Creator  from  his  work  return'd 
Magnificent,  his  six  days'  work,  a  world ; 
Open,  and  henceforth  oft ;  for  God  will  deign 
To  visit  oft  the  dwellings  of  just  men 
Delighted,  and  with  frequent  intercourse 
Thither  will  send  his  winged  messengers 
On  errands  of  supernal  grace.'     So  sung  573 

The  glorious  train  ascending:  he  through  Heaven, 
That  open'd  wide  her  blazing  portals,  led 
To  God's  eternal  house  direct  the  way, 
A  broad  and  ample  road,  whose  dust  is  gold 
And  pavement  stars,  as  stars  to  thee  appear, 
Seen  in  the  galaxy,  that  milky  way, 
Which  nightly  as  a  circling  zone  thou  seest 
Powder'd  with  stars.     And  now  on  earth  the  seventh 
Evening  arose  in  Eden,  for  the  sun 
Was  set,  and  twilight  from  the  east  came  on, 
Forerunning  night ;  when  at  the  holy  mount 


190  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  VIL 

Of  Heaven's  high-seated  top,  the  imperial  throne 

Of  Godhead,  fix'd  forever  firm  and  sure, 

The  Filial  Power  arrived,  and  sat  him  down 

"With  his  great  Father,  for  he  also  went 

Invisible,  yet  staid,  (such  privilege 

Hath  Omnipresence,)  and  the  work  ordain'd, 

Author  and  end  of  all  things,  and  from  work 

Xow  resting,  bless'd  and  hallow'd  the  seventh  day, 

As  resting  on  that  day  from  all  his  work, 

But  not  in  silence  holy  kept ;  the  harp  t594 

Had  work  and  rested  not,  the  solemn  pipe, 

And  dulcimer,  all  organs  of  sweet  stop, 

All  sounds  on  fret  by  string  or  golden  wire, 

Tempered  soft  tunings  intermix'd  with  voice 

Choral  or  unison :  of  incense  clouds 

Fuming  from  golden  censers  hid  the  mount. 

Creation  and  the  six  days'  acts  they  sung : 

4  Great  are  thy  works,  Jehovah,  infinite 

Thy  power ;  what  thought  can  measure  thee,  or  tongue 

Relate  thee  ?  greater  now  in  thy  return 

Than  from  the  giant  angels ;  thee  that  day  605 

fThy  thunders  magnified;  but  to  create 

»-Is  greater  than  created  to  destroy. 
Who  can  impair  thee,  mighty  King,  or  bound 
Thy  empire  ?  easily  the  proud  attempt 
Of  spirits  apostate  and  their  counsels  vain 
Thou  hast  repelPd,  while  impiously  they  thought 
Thee  to  diminish,  and  from  thee  withdraw 
The  number  of  thy  worshippers.     Who  seeks 
To  lessen  thee,  against  his  purpose  serves 
To  manifest  the  more  thy  might :  his  evil 
Thou  usest,  and  from  thence  creat'st  more  good.         61 0 
Witness  this  new-made  world,  another  Heaven 
From  Heaven-gate  not  far,  founded  in  view 
On  the  clear  hyaline,  the  glassy  sea ; 
Of  amplitude  almost  immense,  with  stars 
Numerous,  and  every  star  perhaps  a  world 
Of  destined  habitation ;  but  thou  know'st 
Their  seasons  :  among  these  the  seat  of  men, 
Earth  with  her  nether  ocean  circumfused, 
Their  pleasant  dwelling-place.    Thrice  happy  men, 
And  sons  of  men,  whom  God  hath  thus  advanced, 
Created  in  his  image,  there  to  dwell  627 


B.  VII.]  PARADISE    LOST.  191 

And  worship  him,  and  in  reward  to  rule 
Over  his  works,  on  earth,  in  sea,  or  air, 
And  multiply  a  race  of  worshippers 
Holy  and  just :  thrice  happy  if  they  know 
Their  happiness,  and  persevere  upright.' 

"  So  sung  they,  and  the  empyrean  rung 
With  hallelujahs :  thus  was  sabbath  kept. 
And  thy  request  think  now  fulfilled,  that  ask'd 
How  first  this  world  and  face  of  things  began, 
And  what  before  thy  memory  was  done  fi37 

From  the  beginning,  that  posterity 
Inform'd  by  thee  might  know ;  if  else  thou  seek'st 
Aught,  not  surpassing  human  measure,  say." 


PARADISE   LOST. 


BOOK  VIII. 

THE    AKGTTMENT. 

inquires  concerning  celestial  motions  ;  is  doubtfully  answered,  and  exhorted 
to  search  rather  things  more  worthy  of  knowledge :  Adam  assents,  and,  still 
desiroua  to  detain  Raphael,  relates  to  him  what  he  remembered  since  his  own 
creation,  his  placing  in  Paradise,  his  talk  with  God  concerning  solitude  and  fit 
society,  his  first  meeting  and  nuptials  with  Eve  ;  his  discourse  with  the  angel 
thereupon,  who,  after  admonitions  repeated,  departs. 

THE  angel  ended,  and  in  Adam's  ear 

So  charming  left  his  voice,  that  he  awhile 

Thought  him  still  speaking,  still  stood  fix'd  to  hear ;  3 

Then,  as  new  waked,  thus  gratefully  replied : 

u  What  thanks  sufficient,  or  what  recompense 
Equal  have  I  to  render  thee,  divine 
Historian,  who  thus  largely  hast  allay'd 
The  thirst  I  had  of  knowledge,  and  vouchsafed 
This  friendly  condescension,  to  relate 
Things  else  by  me  unsearchable,  now  heard 
"With  wonder,  but  delight,  and,  as  is  due, 
With  glory  attributed  to  the  high 
Creator  ?     Something  yet  of  doubt  remains, 
Which  only  thy  solution  can  resolve.  14 

When  I  behold  this  goodly  frame,  this  world, 
Of  Heaven  and  earth  consisting,  and  compute 
Their  magnitudes,  this  earth  a  spot,  a  grain, 
An  atom,  with  the  firmament  compared 
And  all  her  numbered  stars,  that  seem  to  roll 
Spaces  incomprehensible,  (for  such 
Their  distance  argues  and  their  swift  return 
Diurnal,)  merely  to  officiate  light 
Round  this  opacous  earth,  thus  punctual  spot, 
One  day  and  night,  in  all  their  vast  survey 
Useless  besides ;  reasoning,  I  oft  admire,  25 


B.  VIII.]  PARADISE    LOST.  193 

How  nature,  wise  and  frugal,  could  commit 

Such  disproportions,  with  superfluous  hand 

So  many  nobler  bodies  to  create, 

Greater  so  manifold,  to  this  one  use, 

For  aught  appears,  and  on  their  orbs  impose 

Such  restless  revolution,  day  by  day 

Repeated ;  while  the  sedentary  earth, 

That  better  might  with  far  less  compass  move, 

Served  by  more  noble  than  herself,  attains 

Her  end  without  least  motion,  and  receives,  35 

As  tribute,  such  a  sumless  journey  brought 

Of  incorporeal  speed,  her  warmth  and  light ; 

Speed,  to  describe  whose  swiftness  number  fails." 

So  spake  our  sire,  and  by  his  countenance  seem'd 
Entering  on  studious  thoughts  abstruse,  which  Eve 
Perceiving,  where  she  sat  retired  in  sight, 
With  lowliness  majestic  from  her  seat, 
And  grace  that  won  who  saw  to  wish  her  stay, 
Hose,  and  went  forth  among  her  fruits  and  flowers, 
To  visit  how  they  prospered,  bud  and  bloom, 
Her  nursery ;  they  at  her  coming  sprung,  40 

And,  touch'd  by  her  fair  tendance,  gladlier  grew. 
Yet  went  she  not,  as  not  with  such  discourse 
Delighted,  or  not  capable  her  ear 
Of  what  was  high :  such  pleasure  she  reserved, 
Adam  relating,  she  sole  auditress ; 
Her  husband  the  relator  she  preferred 
Before  the  angel,  and  of  him  to  ask 
Chose  rather;  he,  she  knew,  would  intermix 
Grateful  digressions,  and  solve  high  dispute 
With  conjugal  caresses ;  from  his  lip 
Not  words  alone  pleased  her.     O  when  meet  now        57 
Such  pairs,  in  love  and  mutual  honor  joined? 
With  goddess-like  demeanor  forth  she  went, 
Not  unattended,  for  on  her  as  queen 
A  pomp  of  winning  graces  waited  still, 
And  from  about  her  shot  darts  of  desire 
Into  all  eyes  to  wish  her  still  in  sight. 
And  Raphael  now,  to  Adam's  doubt  proposed, 
Benevolent  and  facile  thus  replied : 

u  To  ask  or  search  I  blame  thee  not,  for  Heaven 
Is  as  the  book  of  God  before  thee  set, 
Wherein  to  read  his  wondrous  works,  and  learn  68 

17 


194  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  via 

His  seasons,  hours,  or  days,  or  months,  or  years ; 

This  to  attain,  whether  Heaven  move  or  earth, 

Imports  not,  if  thou  reckon  right ;  the  rest 

From  man  or  angel  the  great  Architect 

Did  wisely  to  conceal,  and  not  divulge 

His  secrets  to  be  scann'd  by  them  who  ought 

Kather  admire ;  or  if  they  list  to  try 

Conjecture,  he  his  fabric  of  the  Heavens 

Hath  left  to  their  disputes,  perhaps  to  move 

His  laughter  at  their  quaint  opinion  wide  78 

Hereafter,  when  they  come  to  model  Heaven 

And  calculate  the  stars,  how  they  will  wield 

The  mighty  frame,  how  build,  unbuild,  contrive 

To  save  appearances,  how  gird  the  sphere 

With  centric  and  eccentric  scribbled  o'er, 

Cycle  and  epicycle,  orb  in  orb : 

Already  by  thy  reasoning  this  I  guess, 

Who  art  to  lead  thy  offspring,  and  supposest 

That  bodies  bright  and  greater  should  not  serve 

The  less  not  bright,  nor  Heaven  such  journey?  run, 

Earth  sitting  still,  when  she  alone  receives  *  80 

The  benefit.     Consider  first,  that  great 

Or  bright  infers  not  excellence :  the  earth 

Though,  in  comparison  of  Heaven,  so  small, 

Nor  glistering,  may  of  solid  good  contain 

More  plenty  than  the  sun  that  barren  shines, 

Whose  virtue  on  itself  works  no  effect, 

But  in  the  fruitful  earth ;  there,  first  received, 

His  beams,  unactive  else,  their  vigor  find. 

Yet  not  to  earth  are  those  bright  luminaries 

Officious,  but  to  thee  earth's  habitant. 

And  for  the  Heaven's  wide  circuit,  let  it  speak  1 00 

The  Maker's  high  magnificence,  who  built 

So  spacious,  and  his  line  stretch'd  out  so  far ; 

That  man  may  know  he  dwells  not  in  his  own , 

An  edifice  too  large  for  him  to  fill, 

Lodged  in  a  small  partition,  and  the  rest 

Ordain'd  for  uses  to  his  Lord  best  known. 

The  swiftness  of  those  circles  attribute, 

Though  numberless,  to  his  omnipotence, 

That  to  corporeal  substances  could  add 

Speed  almost  spiritual :  me  thou  think'st  not  slow 

Who  since  the  morning  hour  set  out  from  Heaven      1} 1 


B.  VIII.]  PARADISE   LOST.  195 

Where  God  resides,  and  ere  midday  arrived 

In  Eden,  distance  inexpressible 

By  numbers  that  have  name.    But  this  I  urge, 

Admitting  motion  in  the  Heavens,  to  show 

Invalid  that  which  thee  to  doubt  it  moved ; 

Not  that  I  so  affirm,  though  so  it  seein 

To  thee  who  hast  thy  dwelling  here  on  earth. 

God  to  remove  his  ways  from  human  sense, 

Placed  Heaven  from  earth  so  far,  that  earthly  sight, 

If  it  presume,  might  err  in  things  too  high,  121 

And  no  advantage  gain.     "What  if  the  sun 

Be  centre  to  the  world,  and  other  stars, 

By  his  attractive  virtue  and  their  own 

Incited,  dance  about  him  various  rounds  ? 

Their  wandering  course  now  high,  now  low,  then  hid, 

Progressive,  retrograde,  or  standing  still, 

In  six  thou  seest ;  and  what  if  seventh  to  these 

The  planet  earth,  so  steadfast  though  she  seem, 

Insensibly  three  different  motions  move  ? 

Which  eke  to  several  spheres  thou  must  ascribe, 

Moved  contrary  with  thwart  obliquities,  132 

Or  save  the  sun  his  labor,  and  that  swift 

Nocturnal  and  diurnal  rhomb  supposed, 

Invisible  else  above  all  stars,  the  wheel 

Of  day  and  night ;  which  needs  not  thy  belief, 

If  earth,  industrious  of  herself,  fetch  day 

Travelling  east,  and  with  her  part  averse 

From  the  sun's  beam  meet  night,  her  other  part 

Still  luminous  by  his  ray.     What  if  that  light, 

Sent  from  her  through  the  wide  transpicuous  air, 

To  the  terrestrial  moon  be  as  a  star 

Enlightening  her  by  day,  as  she  by  night  143 

This  earth  ?  reciprocal,  if  land  be  there, 

Fields  and  inhabitants.    Her  spots  thpu  seest 

As  clouds,  and  clouds  may  rain,  and  rain  produce 

Fruits  in  her  soften'd  soil,  for  some  to  eat 

Allotted  there ;  and  other  suns  perhaps 

With  their  attendant  moons  thou  wilt  descry 

Communicating  male  and  female  light, 

Which  two  great  sexes  animate  the  world, 

Stored  in  each  orb  perhaps  with  some  that  live. 

For  such  vast  room  in  nature  unpossessed 

By  living  soul,  desert  and  desolate,  154 


196  MILTON  S    POETICAL   WORKS.  [B.  VIII 

Only  to  shine,  yet  scarce  to  contribute 

Each  orb  a  glimpse  of  light  convey'd  so  far 

Down  to  this  habitable,  which  returns 

Light  back  to  them,  is  obvious  to  dispute. 

But  whether  thus  these  things,  or  whether  not, 

Whether  the  sun  predominant  in  Heaven 

Rise  on  the  earth,  or  earth  rise  on  the  sun, 

He  from  the  east  his  flaming  road  begin, 

Or  she  from  west  her  silent  course  advance 

With  inoffensive  pace  that  spinning  sleeps  164 

On  her  soft  axle,  while  she  paces  even, 

And  bears  thee  soft  with  the  smooth  air  along  ; 

Solicit  not  thy  thoughts  with  matters  hid, 

—  Leave  them  to  God  above,  him  serve  and  fear ; 
Of  other  creatures,  as  him  pleases  best, 
Wherever  placed,  let  him  dispose :  joy  thou 
In  what  he  gives  to  thee,  this  Paradise 
And  thy  fair  Eve ;  Heaven  is  for  thee  too  high 
To  know  what  passes  there ;  be  lowly  wise : 
Think  only  what  concerns  thee  and  thy  being ; 
Dream  not  of  other  worlds,  what  creatures  there        175 
Live,  in  what  state,  condition,  or  degree, 
Contented  that  thus  far  hath  been  reveaPd, 
Not  of  earth  only,  but  of  highest  Heaven." 

To  whom  thus  Adam,  clear'd  of  doubt,  replied : 
"  How  fully  hast  thou  satisfied  me,  pure 
Intelligence  of  Heaven,  angel  serene, 
And,  freed  from  intricacies,  taught  to  live 
The  easiest  way,  nor  with  perplexing  thoughts 
To  interrupt  the  sweet  of  life,  from  which 
God  hath  bid  dwell  far  off  all  anxious  cares 
And  not  molest  us,  unless  we  ourselves  186 

Seek  them  with  wandering  thoughts,  and  notions  vain. 
But  apt  the  mind  of  fancy  is  to  rove 
Uncheck'd,  and  of  her  roving  is  no  end  : 
Till  warn'd,  or  by  experience  taught,  she  learn, 

*   That  not  to  know  at  large  of  things  remote 
From  use,  obscure,  and  subtle,  b?it  to  know 
That  which  before  us  lies  in  daily  life, 
Is  the  prime  wisdom ;  what  is  more,  is  fume, 
Or  emptiness,  or  fond  impertinence, 
And  renders  us  in  things  that  most  concern 
Unpractised,  unprepared,  and  still  to  seek.  197 


B.  VIII.J  PARADISE    LOST.  197 

Therefore  from  this  high  pitch  let  us  descend 
A  lower  flight,  and  speak  of  things  at  hand 
"  Useful,  whence  haply  mention  may  arise 
Of  something  not  unseasonable  to  ask 
By  sufferance,  and  thy  wonted  favor  deign'd. 
Thee  I  have  heard  relating  what  was  done 
Ere  nay  remembrance :  now  hear  me  relate 
My  story,  which  perhaps  thou  hast  not  heard 
And  day  is  yet  not  spent ;  till  then  thou  seest 
How  subtly  to  detain  thee  I  devise,  207 

Inviting  thee  to  hear  while  I  relate, 
Fond,  were  it  not  in  hope  of  thy  reply  : 
For  while  I  sit  with  thee  I  seem  in  Heaven, 
And  sweeter  thy  discourse  is  to  my  ear 
Than  fruits  of  palm-tree  pleasantest  to  thirst 
And  hunger  both,  from  labor,  at  the  hour 
Of  sweet  repast :  they  satiate,  and  soon  fill,' 
Though  pleasant;  but  thy  words,  with  grace  divine 
Imbued,  bring  to  their  sweetness  no  satiety." 

To  whom  thus  Raphael  answer'd  heavenly  meek  : 
"Nor  are  thy  lips  ungraceful,  sire  of  men,  218 

Nor  tongue  ineloquent ;  for  God  on  thee        x 
Abundantly  his  gifts  hath  also  pour'd 
Inward  and  outward  both,  his  image  fair : 
Speaking  or  mute  all  comeliness  and  grace 
Attends  thee,  and  each  word,  each  motion  forms ; 
Nor  less  think  we  in  Heaven  of  thee  on  earth 
Than  of  our  fellow-servant,  and  inquire 
Gladly  into  the  ways  of  God  with  man ; 
For  God  we  see  hath  honor'd  thee,  and  set 
On  man  his  equal  love :  say  therefore  on ; 
For  I  that  day  was  absent,  as  befell,  229 

Bound  on  a  voyage  uncouth  and  obscure, 
Far  on  excursion  toward  the  gates  of  Hell ; 
Squared  in  full  legion  (such  command  we  had) 
To  see  that  none  thence  issued  forth  a  spy, 
Or  enemy,  while  God  was  in  his  work, 
Lest  he,  incensed  at  such  eruption  bold, 
Destruction  with  creation  might  have  mix'd. 
Not  that  they  durst  without  his  leave*  attempt, 
But  us  he  sends  upon  his  high  behests 
For  state,  as  sovereign  King,  and  to  inure 
Our  prompt  obedience.     Fast  we  found,  fast  shut      240 


198  MILTDX'S    POETICAL    WORKS.  [B.  VIII 

The  dismal  gates,  and  barricaded  strong  : 

But  long  ere  our  approaching  heard  within 

Noise,  other  than  the  sound  of  dance  or  song, 

Torment,  and  loud  lament,  and  furious  rage. 

Glad  we  returned  up  to  the  coasts  of  light 

Ere  sabbath  evening :  so  we  had  in  charge. 

But  thy  relation  now ;  for  I  attend, 

Pleased  with  thy  words  no  less  than  thou  with  mine." 

So  spake  the  godlike  power,  and  thus  our  sire  : 
"For  man  to  tell  how  human  life  began  25 C 

Is  hard ;  for  who  himself  beginning  knew  ? 
Desire  with  thee  still  longer  to  converse 
Induced  me.     As  new  waked  from  soundest  sleep 
Soft  on  the  flowery  herb  I  found  me  laid 
In  balmy  sweat,  which  with  his  beams  the  sun 
Soon  dried,  and  on  the  reeking  moisture  fed. 
-  Straight  toward  Heaven  my  wondering  eyes  I  turn'd. 
And  gazed  awhile  the  ample  sky,  till  raised 
By  quick  instinctive  motion  up  I  sprung, 
As  thitherward  endeavoring,  and  upright 
Stood  on  my  feet ;  about  me  round  I  saw  261 

Hill,  dale,  and  shady  woods,  and  sunny  plains, 
And  liquid  lapse  of  murmuring  streams ;  by  these, 
Creatures  that  lived  and  moved,  and  walk'd,  or  flew, 
Birds  on  the  branches  warbling ;  all  things  smiled ; 
"With  fragrance  and  with  joy  my  heart  o'erflow'd. 
Myself  I  then  perused,  and  limb  by  limb 
Surveyed,  and  sometimes  went,  and  sometimes  ran 
"With  supple  joints,  as  lively  vigor  led : 
But  who  I  was,  or  where,  or  from  what  cause, 
Knew  not ;  to  speak  I  tried,  and  forthwith  spake ; 
My  tongue  obey'd,  and  readily  could  name  272 

Whatever  I  saw.     '  Thou  sun,'  said  I,  '  fair  light, 
And  thou  enlighten'd  earth,  so  fresh  and  gay, 
Ye  hills  and  dales,  ye  rivers,  woods,  and  plains, 
And  ye  that  live  and  move,  fair  creatures,  tell, 
Tell,  if  ye  saw,  how  came  I  thus,  how  here  ? 
Not  of  myself ;   by  some  great  Maker  then, 
In  goodness  and  in  power  pre-eminent ; 
Tell  me  how  may  I  know  him,  how  adore, 
From  whom  I  have  that  thus  I  move  and  live, 
And  feel  that  I  arn  happier  than  I  know.' 
Whi'e  thus  I  call'd,  and  stray 'd  I  knew  not  whither,  283 


8.  VIII.]  PAEADISE    LOST.  190 

From  where  I  first  drew  air,  and  first  beheld 

This  happy  light,  when  answer  none  returned, 

On  a  green  shady  bank,  profuse  of  flowers, 

Pensive  I  sat  me  down ;  there  gentle  sleep 

First  found  me,  and  with  soft  oppression  seized 

My  drowsed  sense,  untroubled,  though  I  thought 

I  then  was  passing  to  my  former  state 

Insensible,  and  forthwith  to  dissolve : 

When  suddenly  stood  at  my  head  a  dream, 

Wh:>se  inward  apparition  gently  moved  298 

My  fancy  to  believe  I  yet  had  being, 

And  lived.     One  carne,  methought,  of  shape  divine, 

And  said,  *  Thy  mansion  wants  thee,  Adam ;  rise, 

First  man,  of  men  innumerable  ordain'd 

First  father,  call'd  by  thee  I  come  thy  guide 

To  the  garden  of  bliss,  thy  seat  prepared.' 

So  saying,  by  the  hand  he  took  me  raised, 

And  over  fields  and  waters,  as  in  air 

Smooth  sliding  without  step,  last  led  me  up 

A  woody  mountain ;  whose  high  top  was  plain, 

A  circuit  wide,  inclosed,  with  goodliest  trees  30*4 

Planted,  with  walks,  and  bowers,  that  what  I  saw 

Of  earth  before  scarce  pleasant  seem'd.    Each  tree  - 

Loaden  with  fairest  fruit,  that  hung  to  the  eye 

Tempting,  stirr'd  in  me  sudden  appetite 

To  pluck  and  eat :  whereat  I  waked,  and  found 

Before  mine  eyes  all  real,  as  the  dream 

Had  lively  shadow'd.    Here  had  new  begun 

My  wandering,  had  not  he  who  was  my  guide 

Up  hither,  from  among  the  trees  appeared, 

Presence  divine.     Rejoicing,  but  with  awe, 

In  adoration  at  his  feet  I  fell  315 

Submiss :  he  rear'd  me,  and  4  Whom  thou  sough t'st  I  am,' 

Said  mildly,  4  Author  of  all  this  thou  seest 

Above,  or  round  about  thee,  or  beneath. 

This  Paradise  I  give  thee  ;  count  it  thine 

To  till  and  keep,  and  of  the  fruit  to  eat : 

Of  every  tree  that  in  the  garden  grows 

Eat  freely  with  glad  heart ;  fear  here  no  dearth  : 

But  of  the  tree  whose  operation  brings 

Knowledge  of  good  and  ill,  which  I  have  set 

The  pledge  of  thy  obedience  and  thy  faith, 

Amid  the  garden  by  the  tree  of  life,  326 


200  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  VIIL 

Remember  what  I  warn  thee,  shun  to  taste, 

And  shun  the  bitter  consequence ;  for  know, 

The  day  thou  eat'st  thereof,  my  sole  command 

Transgress'd,  inevitably  thou  shalt  die, 

From  that  day  mortal,  and  this  happy  state 

Shalt  lose,  expell'd  from  hence  into  a  world 

Of  woe  and  sorrow.'    Sternly  he  pronounced 

The  rigid  interdiction,  which  resounds 

Yet  dreadful  in  mine  ear,  though  in  my  choice 

Not  to  incur ;  but  soon  his  clear  aspect  33 € 

Returned,  and  gracious  purpose  thus  renew'd : 

4  Not  only  these  fair  bounds,  but  all  the  earth 

To  thee  and  to  thy  race  I  give ;  as  lords 

Possess  it,  and  all  things  that  therein  live, 

Or  live  in  sea,  or  air,  beast,  fish,  and  fowl. 

In  sign  whereof  each  bird  and  beast  behold 

After  their  kinds ;  I  bring  them  to  receive 

From  thee  their  names,  and  pay  thee  fealty 

With  low  subjection ;  understand  the  same 

Of  fish  within  their  watery  residence, 

Not  hither  summon'd,  since  they  cannot  change          347 

Their  element  to  draw  the  thinner  air.' 

As  thus  he  spake,  each  bird  and  beast- behold 
Approaching  two  and  two  ;  these  cowering  low 
With  blandishment ;  each  bird  stoop'd  on  his  wing. 
I  named  them  as  they  pass'd,  and  understood 
Their  nature,  with  such  knowledge  God  endued 
My  sudden  apprehension :  but  in  these 
I  found  not  what  methought  I  wanted  still ; 
And  to  the  heavenly  vision  thus  presumed : 

"  '  0  by  what  name,  for  thou  above  all  these, 
Above  mankind,  or  aught  than  mankind  higher,         356 
Surpassest  far  my  naming,  how  may  I 
Adore  thee,  Author  of  this  universe, 
And  all  this  good  to  man  ?  for  whose  well-being 
So  amply,  and  with  hands  so  liberal, 
Thou  hast  provided  all  things :  but  with  me 
I  see  not  who  partakes.    In  solitude 
What  happiness,  who  can  enjoy  alone, 
Oi  all  enjoying,  what  contentment  find  ?' 
Thus  I  presumptuous ;  and  the  vision  bright, 
As  with  a  smile  more  brighten'd,  thus  replied: 

"  ;  What  call'st  thou  solitude  ?  is  not  the  earth        369 


B.  VIII.]  PARADISE    LOST.  201 

With  various  living  creatures,  and  the  air, 
Keplenish'd,  and  all  these  at  thy  command 
To  come  and  play  before  thee  ?  know'st  thou  not 
Their  language  and  their  ways  ?  they  also  know, 
And  reason  not  contemptibly ;  with  these 
Find  pastime,  and  bear  rule ;  thy  realm  is  large.' 
So  spake  the  universal  Lord,  and  seem'd 
So  ordering.    I  with  leave  of  speech  implored, 
And  humble  deprecation,  thus  replied : 

44  4  Let  not  my  words  offend  thee,  heavenly  Power,  379 
My  Maker,  be  propitious  while  I  speak. 
Hast  thou  not  made  me  here  thy  substitute, 
And  these  inferior  far  beneath  me  set  ? 
Among  unequals  what  society 
Can  sort,  what  harmony  or  true  delight  ? 
Which  must  be  mutual,  in  proportion  due 
Given  and  received ;  but  in  disparity, 
The  one  intense,  the  other  still  remiss, 
Cannot  well  suit  with  either,  but  soon  prove 
Tedious  alike :  of  fellowship  I  speak 
Such  as  I  seek,  fit  to  participate  390 

All  rational  delight,  wherein  the  brute 
Cannot  be  human  consort ;  they  rejoice 
Each  with  their  kind,  lion  with  lioness  •, 
So  fitly  them  in  pairs  thou  hast  combined ; 
Much  less  can  bird  with  beast,  or  fish  with  fowl 
So  well  converse,  nor  with  the  ox  the  ape ; 
Worse  then  can  man  with  beast,  and  least  of  all.' 

Whereto  the  Almighty  answer'd,  not  displeased : 
4  A  nice  and  subtle  happiness  I  see 
Thou  to  thyself  proposest,  in  the  choice 
Of  thy  associates,  Adam,  and  wilt  taste  401 

No  pleasure,  though  in  pleasure,  solitary. 
What  think'st  thou  then  of  me,  and  this  my  state  ? 
Seem  I  to  thee  sufficiently  possess'd 
Of  happiness,  or  not  ?  who  am  alone 
From  all  eternity,  for  none  I  know 
Second  to  me  or  like,  equal  much  less. 
How  have  I  then  with  whom  to  hold  converse, 
Save  with  the  creatures  which  I  made,  and  those 
To  me  inferior,  infinite  descents 
Beneath  what  other  creatures  are  to  thee  ?' 

•4He  ceased,  I  lowly  answer'd :  4To  attain  412 


202  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  vin 

The  height  and  depth  of  thy  eternal  ways 

All  human  thoughts  come  short,  Supreme  of  things ; 

Thou  in  thyself  art  perfect,  and  in  thee 

Is  no  deficience  found ;  not  so  is  man, 

But  in  degree,  the  cause  of  his  desire, 

By  conversation  with  his  like,  to  help 

Or  solace  his  defects.     No  need  that  thou 

Shouldst  propagate,  already  infinite, 

And  through  all  numbers  absolute,  though  one  ; 

But  man  by  number  is  to  manifest  423 

His  single  imperfection,  and  beget 

Like  of  his  like,  his  image  multiplied, 

In  unity  defective,  which  requires 

Collateral  love,  and  dearest  amity. 

Thou  in  thy  secrecy,  although  alone, 

Best  with  thyself  accompanied,  seek'st  not 

Social  communication,  yet,  so  pleased, 

Canst  raise  thy  creature  to  what  height  thou  wilt 

Of  union  or  communion,  deified ; 

I  by  conversing  cannot  these  erect 

From  prone,  nor  in  their  ways  complacence  find.'       483 

Thus  I  embolden'd  spake,  and  freedom  used 

Permissive,  and  acceptance  found,  which  gain'd 

This  answer  from  the  gracious  voice  divine  : 

44  4  Thus  far  to  try  thee,  Adam,  I  was  pleased, 
And  find  thee  knowing  not  of  beasts  alone, 
Which  thou  hast  rightly  named,  but  of  thyself, 
Expressing  well  the  spirit  within  thee  free, 
My  image,  not  imparted  to  the  brute, 
Whose  fellowship  therefore  unmeet  for  thee, 
Good  reason  was  thou  freely  shouldst  dislike, 
And  be  so  minded  still ;  I,  ere  thou  spak'st,  444 

Knew  it  not  good  for  man  to  be  alone, 
And  no  such  company  as  then  thou  saw'st 
Intended  thee,  for  trial  only  brought, 
To  see  how  thou  couldst  judge  of  fit  and  meet. 
What  next  I  bring  shall  please  thee,  be  assured — 
Thy  likeness,  thy  fit  help,  thy  other  self, 
Thy  wish  exactly  to  thy  heart's  desire.' 

44  He  ended,  or  I  heard  no  more,  for  now 
My  earthly  by  his  heavenly  overpowered, 
Which  it  had  long  stood  under,  strain'd  to  the  height 
In  that  celestial  colloquy  sublime,  455 


B.  TIII.l  PARADISE    LOST.  203 

As  with  an  object  that  excels  the  sense, 

Dazzled  and  spent,  sunk  down,  and  sought  repair 

Of  sleep,  which  instantly  fell  on  me,  call'd 

By  nature  as  in  aid,  and  closed  mine  eyes. 

Mine  eyes  he  closed,  but  open  left  the  cell 

Of  fancy,  my  internal  sight,  by  which 

Abstract,  as  in  a  trance,  methought  I  saw, 

Though  sleeping,  where  I  lay,  and  saw  the  shape 

Still  glorious  before  whom  awake  I  stood ; 

Who,  stooping,  open'd  my  left  side,  and  took  405 

From  thence  a  rib,  with  cordial  spirits  warm, 

And  life-blood  streaming  fresh  ;  wide  was  the  wo'.und, 

But  suddenly  with  flesh  fill'd  up  and  heaFd : 

The  rib  he  formed  and  fashion'd  with  his  hands ; 

Under  his  forming  hands  a  creature  grew, 

Manlike,  but  different  sex,  so  lovely  fair, 

That  what  seem'd  fair  in  all  the  world,  seem'd  now 

Mean,  or  in  her  summ'd  up,  in  her  contain'd 

And  in  her  looks,  which  from  that  time  infused 

Sweetness  into  my  heart,  unfelt  before, 

And  into  all  things  from  her  air  inspired  476 

The  spirit  of  love  and  amorous  delight. 

She  disappeared,  and  left  me  dark ;  I  waked 

To  find  her,  or  forever  to  deplore 

Her  loss,  and  other  pleasures  all  abjure : 

When  out  of  hope,  behold  her,  not  far  off, 

Such  as  I  saw  her  in  my  dream,  adorn'd 

With  what  all  earth  or  Heaven  could  bestow 

To  make  her  amiable.     On  she  came, 

Led  by  her  heavenly  Maker,  though  unseen, 

And  guided  by  his  voice,  nor  uninformed 

Of  nuptial  sanctity  and  marriage  rites :  487 

Grace  was  in  all  her  steps,  Heaven  in  her  eye, 

In  every  gesture  dignity  and  love. 

I,  overjoy 'd,  could  not  forbear  aloud  : 

u '  This  turn  hath  made  amends ;  thou  hast  fulfill'd 
Thy  words,  Creator  bounteous  and  benign, 
Giver  of  all  things  fair,  but  fairest  this 
Of  all  thy  gifts,  nor  enviest.    I  now  see 
Bone  of  my  bone,  flesh  of  my  flesh,  myself 
Before  me ;  Woman  is  her  name,  of  man 
Extracted :  for  this  cause  he  shall  forego 
Father  and  mother,  and  to  his  wife  adhere;  4i)Q 


204  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  vm 

And  they  shall  be  one  flesh,  one  heart,  one  soul.' 

"  She  heard  me  thus,  and  though  divinely  brought, 
Yet  innocence  and  virgin  modesty, 
Her  virtue  and  the  conscience  of  her  worth, 
That  would  be  woo'd,  and  not  unsought  be  won, 
Not  obvious,  not  obtrusive,  but  retired, 
The  more  desirable ;  or,  to  say  all, 
Nature  herself,  though  pure  of  sinful  thought, 
Wrought  in  her  so,  that  seeing  me,  she  turn'd : 
I  followed  her ;  she  what  was  honor  knew,  506 

And  with  obsequious  majesty  approved 
My  pleaded  reason.     To  the  nuptial  bower 
I  led  her  blushing  like  the  morn :  all  Heaven, 
And  happy  constellations,  on  that  hour 
Shed  their  selectest  influence ;  the  earth 
Gave  sign  of  gratulation,  and  each  hill ; 
Joyous  the  birds ;  fresh  gales  and  gentle  airs 
AVhisper'd  it  to  the  woods,  and  from  their  wings 
Flung  rose,  flung  odors  from  the  spicy  shrub, 
Disporting,  till  the  amorous  bird  of  night 
Sung  spousal,  and  bid  haste  the  evening  star  519 

On  his  hill  top,  to  light  the  bridal  lamp. 

"  Thus  have  I  told  thee  all  my  state,  and  brought 
My  story  to  the  sum  of  earthly  bliss 
"Which  I  enjoy,  and  must  confess  to  find 
In  all  things  else  delight  indeed,  but  such 
As,  used  or  not,  works  in  the  mind  no  change, 
Nor  vehement  desire :  these  delicacies 
I  mean  of  taste,  sight,  smell,  herbs,  fruits,  and  flowers, 
Walks,  and  the  melody  of  birds ;  but  here 
Far  otherwise,  transported  I  behold, 
Transported  touch  ;  here  passion  first  I  felt,  580 

Commotion  strange,  in.  all  enjoyments  else 
Superior  and  unmoved,  here  only  weak 
Against  the  charm  of  beauty's  powerful  glance. 
Or  nature  fail'd  in  me,  and  left  some  part 
Not  proof  enough  such  object  to  sustain, 
Or  from  my  side  subducting,  took  perhaps 
More  than  enough ;  at  least  on  her  bestow'd 
Too  much  of  ornament,  in  outward  show 
Elaborate,  of  inward  less  exact. 
For  well  I  understand  in  tbe  prime  end 
Of  nature  her  the  inferior,  in  the  mind  541 


B.  VIII J  PARADISE    LOST.  203 

And  inward  faculties,  which  most  excel, 

In  ontward  also  her  resembling  less 

His  image  who  made  both,  and  less  expressing 

The  character  of  that  dominion  given 

O'er  other  creatures ;  yet  when  I  approach 

Her  loveliness,  so  absolute  she  seems, 

And  in  herself  complete,  so  well  to  know 

Her  own,  that  what  she  wills  to  do  or  say 

Seems  wisest,  virtuousest,  discreetest,  best ; 

All  higher  knowledge  in  her  presence  falls  553 

Degraded,  wisdom  in  discourse  with  her 

Loses  discountenanced,  and  like  folly  shows ; 

Authority  and  reason  on  her  wait, 

As  one  intended  first,  not  after  made 

Occasionally ;  and,  to  consummate  all, 

Greatness  of  mind  and  nobleness  their  seat 

Build  in  her  loveliest,  and  create  an  awe 

About  her,  as  a  guard  angelic  placed.-' 

To  whom  the  angel  with  contracted  brow : 
"  Accuse  not  nature,  she  hath  done  her  part ; 
Do  thou  but  thine,  and  be  not  diffident  562 

Of  wisdom ;  she  deserts  thee  not,  if  thou 
Dismiss  not  her,  when  most  thou  need'st  her  nigh, 
By  attributing  overmuch  to  things 
Less  excellent,  as  thou  thyself  perceiv'st. 
For  what  admir'st  thou,  what  transports  thee  so  ? 
An  outside  ?  fair,  no  doubt,  and  worthy  well 
Thy  cherishing,  thy  honoring,  and  thy  love, 
"Not  thy  subjection:  weigh  with  her  thyself; 
Then  value.     Ofttimes  nothing  profits  more 
Than  self-esteem,  grounded  on  just  and  right 
Well  managed ;  of  that  skill  the  more  thou  know'st,  573 
The  more  she  will  acknowledge  thee  her  head, 
And  to  realities  yield  all  her  shows : 
Made  so  adorn  for  thy  delight  the  more, 
So  awful,  that  with  honor  thou  mayst  love 
Thy  mate,  who  sees  when  thou  art  seen  least  wise. 
But  if  the  sense  of  touch,  whereby  mankind 
Is  propagated,  seem  such  dear  delight 
Beyond  all  other,  think  the  same  vouchsafed 
To  cattle  and  each  beast ;  which  would  not  be 
To  them  made  common  and  divulged,  if  aught 
Therein  enjoy'd  were  worthy  to  subdue  584 

18 


206  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  (B.  vm 

The  soul  of  man,  or  passion  in  him  move. 
What  higher  in  her  society  thou  find'st 
Attractive,  human,  rational,  love  still ; 
-   In  loving  thou  dost  well,  in  passion  not, 
Wherein  true  love  consists  not:  love  refines 
The  thoughts,  and  heart  enlarges,  hath  his  seat 
In  reason,  and  is  judicious,  is  the  scale 
By  which  to  heavenly  love  thou  mayst  ascend ; 
Not  sunk  in  carnal  pleasure,  for  which  cause 
Among  the  "beasts  no  mate  for  thee  was  found."         594 

To  whom  thus,  half-abash'd,  Adam  replied : 
"  Neither  her  outside  form'd  so  fair,  nor  aught 
In  procreation  common  to  all  kinds, 
(Though  higher  of  the  genial  bed  by  far, 
And  with  mysterious  reverence  I  deem,) 
So  much  delights  me,  as  those  graceful  acts, 
Those  thousand  decencies  that  daily  flow 
From  all  her  words  and  actions,  mix'd  with  love 
And  sweet  compliance,  which  declare  unfeign'd 
Union  of  mind,  or  in  us  both  one  soul; 
Harmony  to  behold  in  wedded  pair  605 

More  grateful  than  harmonious  sound  to  the  ear. 
Yet  these  subject  not ;  I  to  thee  disclose 
What  inward  thence  I  feel,  not  therefore  foil'd, 
Who  meet  with  various  objects,  from  the  sense 
Variously  representing ;  yet  still  free, 
Approve  the  best,  and  follow  what  I  approve. 
To  love  thou  blam'st  rne  not,  for  love,  thou  say'st, 
Leads  up  to  Heaven,  is  both  the  way  and  guide : 
Bear  with  me  then,  if  lawful  what  I  ask ; 
Love  not  the  heavenly  spirits,  and  how  their  love 
Express  they,  by  looks  only,  or  do  they  mix  616 

Irradiance,  virtual  or  immediate  touch  ?" 

To  whom  the  angel,  with  a  smile  that  glow'd 
Celestial  rosy  red,  love's  proper  hue, 
Answer' d :  "  Let  it  suffice  thee  that  thou  know'st 
Us  happy,  and  without  love  no  happiness. 
Whatever  pure  thou  in  the  body  enjoy'st 
(And  pure  thou  wert  created)  we  enjoy 
In  eminence,  and  obstacle  find  none 
Of  membrane,  joint,  or  limb,  exclusive  bars ; 
Easier  than  air  with  air,  if  spirits  embrace, 
Total  they  mix,  union  of  pure  with  pure  C27 


B.  VIII.]  PARADISE   LOST.  207 

Desiring ;  nor  restrained  conveyance  need 

As  flesh  to  mix  with  flesh,  or  soul  with  soul. 

But  I  can  now  no  more ;  the  parting  sun 

Beyond  the  earth's  green  cape  and  verdant  isles 

Hesperian  sets,  my  signal  to  depart. 

Be  strong,  live  happy,  and  love,  hut  first  of  all 

Him  whom  to  love  is  to  obey,  and  keep 

His  great  command;  take  heed  lest  passion  svay 

Thy  judgment  to  do  aught,  which  else  free-will 

AVould  not  admit :  thine  and  of  all  thy  sons  637 

The  weal  or  woe  in  thee  is  placed  ;  heware. 

I  in  thy  persevering  shall  rejoice, 

And  all  the  hlest :  stand  fast ;  to  stand  or  fall 

Free  in  thine  own  arbitrement  it  lies. 

Perfect  within,  no  outward  aid  require  ; 

And  all  temptation  to  transgress  repel." 

So  saying,  he  arose ;  whom  Adam  thus 
Follow'd  with  benediction :  "  Since  to  part, 
Go,  heavenly  guest,  ethereal  messenger, 
Sent  from  whose  sovereign  goodness  I  adore. 
Gentle  to  me  and  affable  hath  been  648 

Thy  condescension,  and  shall  be  honored  ever 
With  grateful  memory:  thou  to  mankind 
Be  good  and  friendly  still,  and  oft  return." 

So  parted  they ;  the  angel  up  to  Heaven 
From  the  thick  shade,  and  Adam  to  his  bower. 


PARADISE    LOST. 


BOOK  IX. 

THE    ARGUMENT. 

Watan,  having  compassed  the  earth,  with  meditated  guile  returns  as  a  mist,  by  night, 
into  Paradise  :  enters  into  the  serpent  sleeping.  Adam  and  Eve  in  the  morning  go 
forth  to  their  labors,  -which  Eve  proposes  to  divide  in  several  places,  each  laboring 
apart.  Adam  consents  not,  alleging  the  danger,  lest  that  enemy,  of  whom  they 
were  forewarned,  should  attempt  her  found  alone.  Eve,  loth  to  be  thought  not 
circumspect  or  firm  enough,  urges  her  going  apart,  the  rather  desirous  to  make 
trial  of  her  strength :  Adam  at  last  yields.  The  serpent  finds  her  alone  ;  his  subtle 
approach,  first  gazing,  then  speaking,  with  much  flattery  extolling  Eve  above  all 
other  creatures.  Eve,  wondering  to  hear  the  serpent  speak,  asks  how  he  attained 
to  human  speech  and  such  understanding  not  till  now  :  the  serpent  answers,  that 
by  tasting  of  a  certain  tree  in  the  garden  he  attained  both  to  speech  and  reason, 
till  then  void  of  both.  Eve  requires  him  to  bring  her  to  that  tree,  and  finds  it  to 
t>e  the  tree  of  knowledge  forbidden.  The  serpent  now  grown  bolder,  with  many 
wiles  and  arguments  induces  her  at  length  to  eat :  she,  pleased  with  the  taste,  de- 
liberates awhile  whether  to  impart  thereof  to  Adam  or  not ;  at  last  brings  him  of 
the  fruit,  relates  what  persuaded  her  to  eat  thereof.  Adam,  at  first  amazed,  but 
perceiving  her  lost,  resolves,  through  vehemence  of  love,  to  perish  with  her  ;  and, 
extenuating  the  trespass,  eats  also  of  the  fruit.  The  effects  thereof  in  them  both  : 
they  seek  to  cover  their  nakedness ;  then  fall  to  variance  and  accusation  of  one 
another. 

No  more  of  talk,  where  God  or  angel  guest 

"With  man,  as  with  his  friend,  familiar  used 

To  sit  indulgent,  and  with  him  partake  3 

Kural  repast,  permitting  him  the  while 

Venial  discourse  unblamed :  I  now  must  change 

Those  notes  to  tragic ;  foul  distrust,  and  breach 

Disloyal,  on  the  part  of  man,  revolt 

And  disobedience ;  on  the  part  of  Heaven, 

Now  alienated,  distance  and  distaste, 

Anger  and  just  rebuke,  and  judgment  given, 

That  brought  into  this  world  a  world  of  woe, 

Sin  and  her  shadow  death,  and  misery, 

Death's  harbinger.     Sad  task !  yet  argument 

Not  less,  but  more  heroic,  than  the  wrath  14 


B.  IX.]  PARADISE   LOST.  209 

Of  stern  Achilles  on  his  foe  pursued, 

Thrice  fugitive,  about  Troy  wall;  or  rage 

Of  Turnus  for  Lavinia  disespoused  ; 

Or  Neptune's  ire,  or  Juno's,  that  so  long 

Perplex'd  the  Greek  and  Cytherea's  son ; 

If  answerable  style  I  can  obtain 

Of  my  celestial  patroness,  who  deigns 

Her  nightly  visitation  unimplored, 

And  dictates  to  rne  slumbering,  or  inspires 

Easy  my  unpremeditated  verse :  24 

Since  first  this  subject  for  heroic  song 

Pleased  me,  long  choosing,  and  beginning  late ; 

Not  sedulous  by  nature  to  indite 

Wars,  hitherto  the  only  argument 

Heroic  deem'd,  chief  mastery  to  dissect, 

With  long  and  tedious  havoc,  fabled  knights 

In  battles  feign'd ;  the  better  fortitude 

Of  patience  and  heroic  martyrdom 

Unsung ;  or  to  describe  races  and  games, 

Or  tilting  furniture,  emblazon'd  shields, 

Impresses  quaint,  caparisons  and  steeds ;  35 

Bases  and  tinsel  trappings,  gorgeous  knights 

At  joust  and  tournament ;  then  marshall'd  feast 

Served  up  in  hall  with  sewers,  and  seneschals ; 

The  skill  of  artifice  or  office  mean, 

Not  that  which  justly  gives  heroic  name 

To  person  or  to  poem.    Me  of  these 

Nor  skill'd  nor  studious,  higher  argument 

Remains,  sufficient  of  itself  to  raise 

That  name,  unless  an  age  too  late,  or  cold 

Climate,  or  years,  damp  my  intended  wing 

Depress'd ;  and  much  they  may,  if  all  be  mine,  46 

Not  hers  who  brings  it  nightly  to  my  ear. 

The  sun  was  sunk,  and  after  him  the  star 
Of  Hesperus,  whose  office  is  to  bring 
Twilight  upon  the  earth,  short  arbiter 
'Twixt  day  and  night;  and  now  from  end  to  end 
Night's  hemisphere  had  veil'd  the  horizon  round : 
When  Satan,  who  late  fled  before  the  threats 
Of  Gabriel  out  of  Eden,  now  improved 
In  meditated  fraud  and  malice,  bent 
On  man's  destruction,  maugre  what  might  hap 
Of  heavier  on  himself,  fearless  return'd.  57 


210  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  TB.  ix 

By  night  he  fled,  and  at  midnight  return' d 

From  compassing  the  earth,  cautious  of  day, 

Since  Uriel,  regent  of  the  sun,  descried 

His  entrance,  and  fore  warn' d  the  cherubim 

That  kept  their  watch ;  thence,  full  of  anguish  driven, 

The  space  of  seven  continued  nights  he  rode 

"With  darkness,  thrice  the  equinoctial  line 

He  circled,  four  times  cross'd  the  car  of  night 

From  pole  to  pole,  traversing  each  colure ; 

On  the  eighth  return'd,  and  on  the  coast,  averse  07 

From  entrance  or  cherubic  watch,  by  stealth 

Found  unsuspected  way.     There  was  a  place, 

Now  not,  though  sin,  not  time,  first  wrought  the  change, 

Where  Tigris  at  the  foot  of  Paradise 

Into  a  gulf  shot  under  ground,  till  part 

Rose  up  a  fountain  by  the  tree  of  life  : 

In  with  the  river  sunk,  and  with  it  rose 

Satan,  involved  in  rising  mist,  then  sought 

Where  to  lie  hid ;  sea  he  had  search'd,  and  land, 

From  Eden  over  Pontus,  and  the  pool 

Mseotis,  up  beyond  the  river  Ob ;  78 

Downward  as  far  antarctic ;  and  in  length 

"West  from  Orontes  to  the  ocean  barr'd 

At  Darien,  thence  to  the  land  where  flows 

Ganges  and  Indus.     Thus  the  orb  he  roam'd 

With  narrow  search,  and,  with  inspection  deep, 

Consider'd  every  creature,  which  of  all 

Most  opportune  might  serve  his  wiles,  and  found 

The  serpent  subtlest  beast  of  all  the  field. 

Him,  after  long  debate,  irresolute 

Of  thoughts  revolved,  his  final  sentence  chose 

Fit  vessel,  fittest  imp  of  fraud,  in  whom  89 

To  enter,  and  his  dark  suggestions  hide 

From  sharpest  sight:  for  in  the  wily  snake, 

Whatever  sleights,  none  would  suspicious  mark, 

As  from  his  wit  and  native  subtlety 

Proceeding,  which  in  other  beasts  observed, 

Doubt  might  beget  of  diabolic  power 

Active  within,  beyond  the  sense  of  brute. 

Thus  he  resolved ;  but  first,  from  inward  grief, 

His  bursting  passion  into  plaints  thus  pour'd  : 

"  O  earth,  how  like  to  Heaven,  if  not  preferred 
More  justly  seat  worthier  of  gods,  as  built  100 


B,  IX.]  PARADISE    LOST.  211 


second  thoughts,  reforming  what  was  old! 
For  what  God,  after  better,  worse  would  build? 
Terrestrial  Heaven,  danced  round  by  other  heavens 
That  shine,  yet  bear  their  bright  officious  lamps, 
Light  above  light,  for  thee  alone,  as  seems, 
In  thee  concentring  all  their  precious  beams 
Of  sacred  influence  !     As  God  in  Heaven 
Is  centre,  yet  extends  to  all,  so  thou 
Centring  receiv'st  from  all  those  orbs  ;  in  thee, 
Not  in  themselves,  all  their  known  virtue  appears       110 
Productive  in  herb,  plant,  and  nobler  birth 
Of  creatures  animate  with  gradual  life 
Of  growth,  sense,  reason,  all  summ'd  up  in  man, 
With  what  delight  could  I  have  walk'd  thee  round, 
If  I  could  joy  in  aught,  sweet  interchange 
Of  hill  and  valley,  rivers,  woods,  and  plains, 
Now  land,  now  sea,  and  shores  with  foiests  crown'd, 
Rocks,  dens,  and  caves  !     But  I  in  none  of  these 
Find  place  or  refuge  ;  and  the  more  I  see 
Pleasures  about  me,  so  much  more  I  feel 
Torment  within  me,  as  from  the  hateful  siege  121 

Of  contraries  ;  all  good  to  me  becomes 
Bane,  and  in  Heaven  much  worse  would  be  niy  state. 
But  neither  here  seek  I,  no,  nor  in  Heaven 
To  dwell,  unless  by  mastering  Heaven's  Supreme  ; 
Nor  hope  to  be  myself  less  miserable 
By  what  I  seek,  but  others  to  make  such 
As  I,  though  thereby  worse  to  me  redound  : 
For  only  in  destroying  I  find  ease 
To  my  relentless  thoughts  ;  and  him  destroy'd, 
Or  won  to  what  may  work  his  utter  loss, 
For  whom  all  this  was  made,  all  this  will  soon 
Follow,  as  to  him  link'd  in  weal  or  woe:  132 

In  woe  then  ;  that  destruction  wide  may  range. 
To  me  shall  be  the  glory  sole  among 
The  infernal  powers,  in  one  day  to  have  marr'd 
What  he,  Almighty  styled,  six  nights  and  days 
Continued  making,  and  who  knows  how  long 
Before  had  been  contriving,  though  perhaps 
Not  longer  than  since  I  in  one  night  freed 
From  servitude  inglorious  well-nigh  half 
The  angelic  name,  and  thinner  left  the  throng 
Of  his  adorers  :  he  to  be  avenged,  143 


212  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  i? 

And  to  repair  his  numbers  thus  impaired, 

Whether  such  virtue  spent  of  old  now  failM 

More  angels  to  create,  if  they  at  least 

Are  his  created,  or,  to  spite  us  more, 

Determined  to  advance  into  our  room 

A  creature  fonn'd  of  earth,  and  him  endow, 

Exalted  from  so  base  original, 

With  heavenly  spoils,  our  spoils.     What  he  decreed 

He  effected ;  man  he  made,  and  for  him  built 

Magnificent  this  world,  and  earth  his  seat,  153 

Him  lord  pronounced,  and,  O  indignity ! 

Subjected  to  his  service  angel  wings, 

And  flaming  ministers,  to  watch  and  tend 

Their  earthly  charge  :  of  these  the  vigilance 

I  dread,  and  to  elude,  thus  wrapt  in  mist 

Of  midnight  vapor,  glide  obscure,  and  pry 

In  every  bush  and  brake,  where  hap  may  find 

The  serpent  sleeping,  in  whose  mazy  folds 

To  hide  me,  and  the  dark  intent  I  bring. 

O  foul  descent !  that  I  who  erst  contended 

With  gods  to  sit  the  highest,  am  now  constrained        164 

Into  a  beast,  and  mix'd  with  bestial  slime, 

This  essence  to  incarnate  and  imbrute, 

That  to  the  height  of  deity  aspired ! 

But  what  will  not  ambition  and  revenge 

Descend  to  ?  who  aspires  must  down  as  low 

As  high  he  soar'd,  obnoxious  first  or  last 

To  basest  things.    Revenge,  at  first  though  sweet, 

Bitter  ere  long  back  on  itself  recoils : 

Let  it ;  I  reck  not,  so  it  light  well  aim'd, 

Since  higher  I  fall  short,  on  him  who  next 

Provokes  my  envy,  this  new  favorite  175 

Of  Heaven,  this  man  of  clay,  son  of  despite, 

"Whom,  us  the  more  to  spite,  his  Maker  raised 

From  dust.    Spite  then  with  spite  is  best  repaid.** 

So  saying,  through  each  thicket  dank  or  dry 
Like  a  black  mist  low  creeping,  he  held  on 
His  midnight  search,  where  soonest  he  might  find 
The  serpent :  him  fast  sleeping  soon  he  found 
In  labyrinth  of  many  a  round  self-roll'd, 
His  head  the  midst,  well  stored  with  subtle  wiles. 
Not  yet  in  horrid  shade  or  dismal  den, 
Nor  nocent  yet,  but  on  th.3  grassy  herb  188 


R.  DL]  PARADISE    LOST.  213 

Fearless,  unfear'd,  he  slept :  in  at  his  mouth 

The  devil  enter'd,  and  his  brutal  sense, 

In  heart  or  head,  possessing,  soon  inspired 

With  act  intelligential ;  but  his  sleep 

Disturb'd  not,  waiting  close  the  approach  of  morn. 

Kow,  when  as  sacred  light  began  to  dawn 

In  Eden  on  the  humid  flowers,  that  breathed 

Their  morning  incense,  when  all  things  that  breathe 

From  the  earth's  great  altar  send  up  silent  praise 

To  the  Creator,  and  his  nostrils  fill  190 

With  grateful  smell,  forth  came  the  human  pair, 

And  join'd  their  vocal  worship  to  the  quire 

Of  creatures  wanting  voice ;  that  done,  partake 

The  season,  prime  for  sweetest  scents  and  airs : 

Then  commune  how  that  day  they  best  may  ply 

Their  growing  work ;   for  much  their  work  outgrew 

The  hands'  dispatch  of  two  gardening  so  wide. 

And  Eve  first  to  her  husband  thus  began ; 

"  Adam,  well  may  we  labor  still  to  dress 
This  garden,  still  to  tend  plant,  herb,  and  flower, 
Our  pleasant  task  enjoin'd ;  but,  till  more  hands         207 
Aid  us,  the  work  under  our  labor  grows, 
Luxurious  by  restraint ;  what  we  by  day 
Lop  overgrown,  or  prune,  or  prop,  or  bind, 
One  night  or  two  with  wanton  growth  derides, 
Tending  to  wild.     Thou  therefore  now  advise, 
Or  hear  what  to  my  mind  first  thoughts  present ; 
Let  us  divide  our  labors,  thou  where  choice 
Leads  thee,  or  where  most  needs,  whether  to  wind 
The  woodbine  round  this  arbor,  or  direct 
The  clasping  ivy  where  to  climb,  while  I, 
In  yonder  spring  of  roses  interrnix'd  218 

With  myrtle,  find  what  to  redress  till  noon : 
For  while  so  near  each  other  thus  all  day 
Our  task  we  choose,  what  wonder  if  so  near 
Looks  intervene  and  smiles,  or  object  new 
Casual  discourse  draw  on,  which  intermits 
Our  day's  work,  brought  to  little,  though  begun 
Early,  and  the  hour  of  supper  comes  unearn'd  ?' ' 

To  whom  mild  answer  Adam  thus  return'd : 
44  Sole  Eve,  associate  sole,  to  me  beyond 
Compare  above  all  living  creatures  dear ! 
>   Well  hast  thou  motion' d,  well  thy  thoughts  employ'd  229 


214  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B  ix 

How  we  might  best  fulfil  the  work  which  here 

God  hath  assigned  us,  nor  of  me  shalt  pass 

Unpraised ;  for  nothing  lovelier  can  be  found 

In  woman,  than  to  study  household  good, 

And  good  works  in  her  husband  to  promote. 

Yet  not  so  strictly  hath  our  Lord  imposed 

Labor,  as  to  debar  us  when  we  need 

Refreshment,  whether  food,  or  talk  between, 

Food  of  the  mind,  or  this  sweet  intercourse 

Of  looks  and  smiles ;  for  smiles  from  reason  flow,       239 

To  brute  denied,  and  are  of  love  the  food — 

Love,  not  the  lowest  end  of  human  life. 

For  not  to  irksome  toil,  but  to  delight, 

He  made  us,  and  delight  to  reason  join'd. 

These  paths  and  bowers  doubt  not  but  our  joint  hands 

Will  keep  from  wilderness  with  ease,  as  wide 

As  we  need  walk,  till  younger  hands  ere  long 

Assist  us :  but  if  much  converse  perhaps 

Thee  satiate,  to  short  absence  I  could  yield ; 

For  solitude  sometimes  is  best  society, 

And  short  retirement  urges  sweet  return.  250 

But  other  doubt  possesses  me,  lest  harm 

Befall  thee  sever'd  from  me ;  for  thou  know'st 

What  hath  been  warn'd  us,  what  malicious  foe, 

Envying  our  happiness,  and  of  his  own 

Despairing,  seeks  to  work  us  woe  and  shame 

By  sly  assault ;  and  somewhere  nigh  at  hand 

Watches,  no  doubt  with  greedy  hope,  to  find 

His  wish  and  best  advantage,  us  asunder, 

Hopeless  to  circumvent  us  join'd,  where  each 

To  other  speedy  aid  might  lend  at  need ; 

Whether  his  first  design  be  to  withdraw  261 

Our  fealty  from  God,  or  to  disturb 

Conjugal  love,  than  which  perhaps  no  bliss 

Enjoy 'd  by  us  excites  his  envy  more ; 

Or  this,  or  worse,  leave  not  the*  faithful  side 

That  gave  thee  being,  still  shades  thee  and  protects. 

The  wife,  where  danger  or  dishonor  lurks, 

Safest  and  seemliest  by  her  husband  stays, 

Who  guards  her,  or  with  her  the  worst  endures." 

To  whom  the  virgin  majesty  of  Eve, 
As  one  who  loves,  and  some  unkindness  meets, 
With  sweet  austere  composure  thus  replied :  275 


B.  IX.  I  PARADISE    LOST.  215 

"  Offspring  of  Heaven  and  earth,  and  all  eartn's  lord, 
That  such  an  enemy  we  have,  who  seeks 
Our  ruin,  both  by  thee  informed  I  learn,  f 
And  from  the  parting  angel  overheard, 
As  in  a  shady  nook  I  stood  behind, 
Just  then  returned  at  shut  of  evening  flowers. 
But  that  thou  shouldst  my  firmness  therefore  doubt 
To  God  or  thee,  because  we  have  a  foe 
May  tempt  it,  I  expected  not  to  hear. 
His  violence  thou  fear'st  not,  being  such  282 

As  we,  not  capable  of  death  or  pain, 
Can  either  not  receive,  or  can  repel. 
His  fraud  is  then  thy  fear,  which  plain  infers 
Thy  equal  fear  that  my  firm  faith  and  love 
Can  by  his  fraud  be  shaken  or  seduced ; 
Thoughts,  which  how  found  they  harbor  in  thy  breast, 
Adam,  misthought  of  her  to  thee  so  dear?" 

To  whom  with  healing  words  Adam  replied : 
"Daughter  of  God  and  man,  immortal  Eve, 
For  such  thou  art,  from  sin  and  blame  entire ; 
Not  diffident  of  thee  do  I  dissuade  293 

Thy  absence  from  my  sight,  but  to  avoid 
The  attempt  itself,  intended  by  our  foe. 
For  he  who  tempts,  though  in  vain,  at  least  asperses 
The  tempted  with  dishonor  foul,  supposed 
Not  incorruptible  of  faith,  not  proof 
Against  temptation  :  thou  thyself  with  scorn 
And  anger  wouldst  resent  the  offer'd  wrong, 
Though,  ineffectual  found ;  misdeem  not,  then, 
If  such  affront  I  labor  to  avert 
From  thee  alone,  which  on  us  both  at  once 
The  enemy,  though  bold,  will  hardly  dare,  304 

Or  daring,  first  on  me  the  assault  shall  light. 
Nor  thou  his  malice  and  false  guile  contemn ; 
Subtle  he  needs  must  be,  who  could  seduce 
Angels;  nor  think  superfluous  others'  aid. 
I  from  the  influence  of  thy  looks  receive 
Access  in  every  virtue,  in  thy  sight 
More  wise,  more  watchful,  stronger,  if  need  were, 
Of  outward  strength ;  while  shame,  thou  looking  on, 
Shame  to  be  overcome  or  overreach'd, 
Would  utmost  vigor  raise,  and  raised  unite. 
Why  shouldst  not  thou  like  sense  within  thee  feel       315 


216  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  IB.  LX. 

vVhen  I  am  present,  and  thy  trial  choose 
With  me,  best  witness  of  thy  virtue  tried  ?'T 

So  spake  domestic  Adam  in  his  care 
And  matrimonial  love ;  but  Eve,  who  thought 
Less  attributed  to  her  faith  sincere, 
Tlius  her  reply  with  accent  sweet  renew'd : 

"  If  this  be  our  condition,  thus  to  dwell 
In  narrow  circuit  straitened  by  a  foe, 
Subtle  or  violent,  we  not  endued 

Single  with  like  defence,  wherever  met,  325 

How  are  we  happy, 'still  in  fear  of  harm? 
But  harm  precedes  not  sin ;  only  our  foe 
Tempting  affronts  us  with  his  foul  esteem 
Of  our  integrity ;  his  foul  esteem 
Sticks  no  dishonor  on  our  front,  but  turns 
'Foul  on  himself:  then  wherefore  shunn'd  or  fear'cl 
By  us  ?  who  rather  double  honor  gain 
From  his  surmise  proved  false,  find  peace  within, 
Favor  from  Heaven,  our  witness  from  the  event. 
And  what  is  faith,  love,  virtue,  unassay'd 
Alone,  without  exterior  help  sustained  ?  386 

Let  us  not  then  suspect  our  happy  state 
Left  so  imperfect  by  the  Maker  wise, 
As  not  secure  to  single  or  combined. 
Frail  is  our  happiness,  if  this  be  so, 
And  Eden  were  no  Eden  thus  exposed.'7 

To  whom  thus  Adam  fervently  replied  : 
"  0  woman,  best  are  all  things  as  the  will 
Of  God  ordain'd  them ;  his  creating  hand 
Nothing  imperfect  or  deficient  left 
Of  all  that  he  created,  much  less  man, 
Or  aught  that  might  his  happy  state  secure,,  #47 

Secure  from  ou-tward  force ;  within  himself 
The  danger  lies,  yet  lies  within  his  power ; 
Against  his  will  he  can  receive  no  harm. 
But  God  left  free  the  will ;  for  what  obeys 
Reason  is  free,  and  reason  he  made  right, 
But  bid  her  well  beware,  and  still  erect, 
Lest,  by  some  fair  appearing  good  surprised, 
She  dictate  false,  and  misinform  the  will 
To  do  what  God  expressly  hath  forbid. 
Kot  then  mistrust,  but  tender  love,  enjoins, 
That  I  should  mind  thee  oft,  and  mind  thou  me.          358 


B.  IX.]  PARADISE    LOST.  21* 

Firm  we  subsist,  yet  possible  to  swerve, 

Since  reason  not  impossibly  may  meet 

Some  specious  object  by  the  foe  suborn'd, 

And  fall  into  deception  unaware, 

Not  keeping  strictest  watch,  as  she  was  warn'd. 

Seek  not  temptation  then,  which  to  avoid 

Were  better,  and  most  likely  if  from  me 

Thou  sever  not :  trial  will  come  unsought. 

"Would st  thou  approve  thy  constancy,  approve 

First  thy  obedience  ;  the  other  who  can  know,  368 

Not  seeing  thee  attempted,  who  attest? 

But  if  thou  think  trial  unsought  may  find 

Us  both  securer  than  thus  warn'd  thou  seem'st, 

Go ;  for  thy  stay,  not  free,  absents  thee  more ; 

Go  in  thy  native  innocence,  rely 

On  what  thou  hast  of  virtue,  summon  all, 

For  God  towards  thee  hath  done  his  part,  do  thine." 

So  spake  the  patriarch  of  mankind ;  but  Eve 
Persisted  ;  yet  submiss,  though  last,  replied  : 

"  With  thy  permission,  then,  and  thus  forewarned, 
Chiefly  by  what  thy  own  last  reasoning  words  379 

Touch'd  only,  that  our  trial,  when  least  sought, 
May  find  us  both  perhaps  far  less  prepared, 
The  willinger  I  go,  nor  much  expect 
A  foe  so  proud  will  first  the  weaker  seek ; 
So  bent,  the  more  shall  shame  him  his  repulse." 

Thus  saying,  from  her  husband's  hand  her  hand 
Soft  she  withdrew,  and,  like  a  wood-nymph  light, 
Oread  or  Dryad,  or  of  Delia's  train, 
Betook  her  to  -the  groves,  but  Delia's  self 
In  gait  surpassed,  and  goddess-like  deport, 
Though  not  as  she  with  bow  and  quiver  arm  a,          *390 
But  with  such  gardening  tools  as  art  yet  rude, 
Guiltless  of  fire,  had  form'd,  or  angels  brought. 
To  Pales,  or  Pomona,  thus  adorn'd, 
Likest  she  seem'd,  Pomona  when  she  fled 
Yertumnus,  or  to  Ceres  in  her  prime, 
Yet  virgin  of  Proserpina  from  Jove. 
Her  long  with  ardent  look  his  eye  pursued 
Delighted,  but  desiring  more  her  stay. 
Oft  he  to  her  his  charge  of  quick  return 
Repeated,  she  to  him  as  oft  engaged 
To  be  returned  by  noon  amid  the  bower,  402 

19 


218  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  fe.  ix. 

And  all  things  in  best  order  to  invite 

Noontide  repast,  or  afternoon's  repose. 

O  much  deceived,  much  failing,  hapless  Eve, 

Of  thy  presumed  return !  event  perverse ! 

Thou  never  from  that  hour  in  Paradise 

Found'st  either  sweet  repast,  or  sound  repose ; 

Such  ambush  hid  among  sweet  flowers  and  shades 

"Waited  with  hellish  rancor  imminent 

To  intercept  thy  way,  or  send  thee  back 

Despoil'd  of  innocence,  of  faith,  of  bliss.  Ill 

For  now,  and  since  first  break  of  dawn,  the  fiend, 

Mere  serpent  in  appearance,  forth  was  come, 

And  on  his  quest,  where  likeliest  he  might  find 

The  only  two  of  mankind,  but  in  them 

The  whole  included  race,  his  purposed  prey. 

In  bower  and  field  he  sought,  where  any  tuft 

Of  grove  or  garden-plot  more  pleasant  lay, 

Their  tendance  or  plantation  for  delight; 

By  fountain  or  by  shady  rivulet 

He  sought  them  both,  but  wish'd  his  hap  might  find 

Eve  separate ;  he  wish'd,  but  not  with  hope  422 

Of  what  so  seldom  chanced,  when  to  his  wish, 

Beyond  his  hope,  Eve  separate  he  spies, 

Veil'd  in  a  cloud  of  fragrance,  where  she  stood, 

Half  spied,  so  thick  the  roses  blushing  round 

About  her  glow'd,  oft  stooping  to  support 

Each  flower  of  slender  stalk,  whose  head,  though  gay, 

Carnation,  purple,  azure,  or  speck' d  with  gold, 

Hung  drooping  unsustain'd:  them  she  upstays 

Gently  with  myrtle  band,  mindless  the  while 

Herself,  though  fairest  unsupported  flower, 

From  her  best  prop  so  far,  and  storm  so  nigh.  438 

Nearer  he  drew,  and  many  a  walk  traversed 

Of  stateliest  covert,  cedar,  pine,  or  palm, 

Then  voluble  and  bold,  now  hid,  now  seen, 

Among  thick-woven  arborets  and  flowers 

Imborder'd  on  each  bank,  the  hand  of  Eve : 

Spot  more  delicious  than  those  gardens  feign'd 

Or  of  revived  Adonis,  or  renown'd 

Alcinous,  host  of  old  Laertes'  son, 

Or  that,  not  mystic,  where  the  sapient  king 

Held  dalliance  with  his  fair  Egyptian  spouse. 

Much  he  the  place  admired,  the  person  more,  444 


B.  IX. ]  PARADISE    LOST.  211> 

As  one  who,  long  in  populous  city  pent. 

Where  houses  thick  and  sewers  annoy  the  air 

Forth  issuing  on  a  summer's  morn  to  breathe 

Among  the  pleasant  villages  and  farms 

Adjoin'd,  from  each  thing  met  conceives  delight, 

The  smell  of  grain,  or  tedded  grass,  or  kine, 

Or  dairy,  each  rural  sight,  each  rural  sound ; 

If  chance  with  nymph-like  step  fair  virgin  pass, 

What  pleasing  seem'd,  for  her  now  pleases  more, 

She  most,  and  in  her  look  sums  all  delight :  454 

Such  pleasure  took  the  serpent  to  behold 

This  flowery  plat,  the  sweet  recess  of  Eve 

Thus  early,  thus  alone ;  her  heavenly  form 

Angelic,  but  more  soft,  and  feminine, 

Her  graceful  innocence,  her  every  air 

Of  gesture,  or  least  action,  overaw'd 

His  malice,  and  with  rapine  sweet  bereaved 

His  fierceness  of  the  fierce  intent  it  brought ; 

That  space  the  evil  one  abstracted  stood 

From  his  own  evil,  and  for  the  time  remained 

Stupidly  good,  of  enmity  disarmed,  465 

Of  guile,  of  hate,  of  envy,  of  revenge ; 

But  the  hot  hell  that  always  in  him  burns, 

Though  in  mid  heaven,  soon  ended  his  delight, 

And  tortures  him  now  more,  the  more  he  sees 

Of  pleasure  not  for  him  ordain'd :  then  soon 

Fierce  hate  he  recollects,  and  all  his  thoughts 

Of  mischief,  gratulating,  thus  excites  : 

"Thoughts,  whither  have  ye  led  me  ?  with  what  sweet 
Compulsion  thus  transported  to  forget 
What  hither  brought  us !  hate,  not  love  ;  nor  hope 
Of  Paradise  for  hell,  hope  here  to  taste  476 

Of  pleasure,  but  all  pleasure  to  destroy, 
Save  what  is  in  destroying ;  other  joy 
To  me  is  lost.     Then  let  me  not  let  pass 
Occasion  which  now  smiles :  behold  alone 
The  woman,  opportune  to  all  attempts ; 
Her  husband,  for  I  view  far  round,  not  nigh, 
Whose  higher  intellectual  more  I  shun, 
And  strength,  of  courage  haughty,  and  of  limb 
Heroic  built,  though  of  terrestrial  mould, — 
Foe  not  informidable,  exempt  from  wound, 
I  not;  so  much  hath  hell  debased,  and  pain  487 


220  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  ix, 

Enfeebled  me,  to  what  I  was  in  Heaven. 
She  fair,  divinely  fair,  fit  love  for  gods ; 
Not  terrible,  though  terror  be  in  love 
And  beauty,  not  approached  by  stronger  hate, 
Hate  stronger,  under  show  of  love  well  feignTd, 
The  way  which  to  her  ruin  now  I  tend." 

So  spake  the  enemy  of  mankind,  inclosed 
In  serpent,  inmate  bad,  and  toward  Eve 
Address'd  his  way,  not  with  indented  wave, 
Prone  on  the  ground,  as  since,  but  on  his  rear,  497 

Circular  base  of  rising  folds,  that  tower'd, 
Fold  above  fold,  a  surging  maze,  his  head 
Crested  aloft,  and  carbuncle  his  eyes ; 
"With  burnish'd  neck  of  verdant  gold,  erect 
Amidst  his  circling  spires,  that  on  the  grass 
Floated  redundant :  pleasing  was  his  shape, 
And  lovely ;  never  sense  of  serpent  kind 
Lovelier,  not  those  that  in  Illyria  changed 
Hermione  and  Cadmus,  or  the  god 
In  Epidaurus  ;  nor  to  which  transformed 
Arnmonian  Jove,  or  Capitoline,  was  seen ;  508 

He  with  Olympias,  this  with  her  who  bore 
Scipio  the  height  of  Rome.     With  tract  oblique 
At  first,  as  one  who  sought  access,  but  fear'd 
To  interrupt,  side-long  he  works  his  way, 
As  when  a  ship,  by  skilful  steersman  wrought 
Nigh  river's  mouth  or  foreland,  where  the  wind 
Veers  oft,  as  oft  so  steers,  and  shifts-  her  sail : 
So  varied  he,  and  of  his  tortuous  train 
CurPd  many  a  wanton  wreath  in  sight  of  Eve, 
To  lure  her  eye ;  she  busied  heard  the  sound 
Of  rustling  leaves,  but  minded  not,  as  used  51  § 

To  such  disport  before  her  through  the  field, 
From  every  beast,  more  duteous  at  her  call 
Than  at  Circean  call  the  herd  disguised. 
He,  bolder  now,  uncalPd  before  her  stood, 
But  as  in  gaze  admiring :  oft  he  bow'd 
His  turret  crest,  and  sleek  enamell'd  neck, 
Fawning,  and  lick'd  the  ground  whereon  she  trod. 
His  gentle  dumb  expression  turn'd  at  length 
The  eye  of  Eve  to  mark  his  play ;  he,  glad 
Of  her  attention  gain'd,  with  serpent  tongue 
Organic,  or  impulse  of  vocal  air,  530 


B.  IX.]  PARADISE    LOST.  221 

His  fraudulent  temptation  thus  began : 

"  Wonder  not,  sovereign  Mistress,  if  perhaps 
Thou  canst,  who  art  sole  wonder ;  much  less  arm 
Thy  looks,  the  heaven  of  mildness,  with  disdain, 
Displeased  that  I  approach  thee  thus,  and  gaze 
Insatiate,  I  thus  single,  nor  have  fear'd 
Thy  awful  brow,  more  awful  thus  retired. 
Fairest. resemblance  of  thy  Maker  fair, 
Thee  all  things  living  gaze  on,  all  things  thine 
By  gift,  and  thy  celestial  beauty  adore  54C 

With  ravishment  beheld,  there  best  beheld 
"Where  universally  admired ;  but  here 
In  this  inclosure  wild,  these  beasts  among, 
Beholders  rude,  and  shallow  to  discern 
Half  what  in  thee  is  fair,  one  man  except, 
Who  sees  thee  ?  (and  what  is  one  ?)  who  shouldst  be  seen 
A  goddess  among  gods,  adored  and  served 
By  angels  numberless,  thy  daily  train." 

So  glozed  the  tempter,  and  his  proem  tuned ; 
Into  the  heart  of  Eve  his  words  made  way, 
Though  at  the  voice  much  marvelling :  at  length        551 
Not  unamazed  she  thus  in  answer  spake : 

"  What  may  this  mean  ?  language  of  man  pronounced 
By  tongue  of  brute,  and  human  sense  expressed  ? 
The  first,  at  least,  of  these  I  thought  denied 
To  beasts,  whom  God  on  their  creation-day 
Created  mute  to  all  articulate  sound ; 
The  latter  I  demur,  for  in  their  looks 
Much  reason,  and  in  their  actions,  oft  appears. 
Thee,  serpent,  subtlest  beast  of  all  the  field 
I  knew,  but  not  with  human  voice  endued ; 
Kedouble  then  this  miracle,  and  say,  56? 

How  cam'st  thou  speakable  of  mute,  and  how 
To  me  so  friendly  grown  above  the  rest 
Of  brutal  kind,  that  daily  are  in  sight : 
Say,  for  such  wonder  claims  attention  due." 

To  whom  the  guileful  tempter  thus  replied : 
"Empress  of  this  fair  world,  resplendent  Eve, 
Easy  to  me  it  is  to  tell  thee  all  [obey'd : 

What  thou  command'st,  and  right  thou  shouldst  be 
I  was  at  first  as  other  beasts  that  graze 
The  trodden  herb,  of  abject  thoughts  and  low, 
As  was  my  food ;  nor  aught  but  food  discern'd  573 


222  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  IB.  ix 

Or  sex,  and  apprehended  nothing  high ; 

Till  on  a  day,  roving  the  field,  I  chanced 

A  goodiy  tree  far  distant  to  behold, 

Loaden  with  fruit  of  fairest  colors  mix'd, 

Ruddy  and  gold :  I  nearer  grew  to  gaze ; 

When  from  the  boughs  a  savory  odor  blown, 

Grateful  to  appetite,  more  pleased  my  sense 

Than  smell  of  sweetest  fennel,  or  the  teats 

Of  ewe  or  goat  dropping  with  milk  at  even, 

Unsuck'd  of  lamb  or  kid,  that  tend  their  play.  583 

To  satisfy  the  sharp  desire  I  had 

Of  tasting  those  fair  apples,  I  resolved 

Not  to  defer ;  hunger  and  thirst  at  once, 

Powerful  persuaders,  quicken'd  at  the  scent 

Of  that  alluring  fruit,  urged  me  so  keen. 

About  the  mossy  trunk  I  wound  me  soon, 

For  high  from  ground  the  branches  would  require 

Thy  utmost  reach,  or  Adam's :  round  the  tree 

All  other  beasts  that  saw,  with  like  desire 

Longing  and  envying  stood,  but  could  not  reach. 

Amid  the  tree  now  got,  where  plenty  hung  594 

Tempting  so  nigh,  to  pluck  and  eat  my  fill 

I  spared  not,  for  such  pleasure  till  that  hour 

At  feed  or  fountain  never  had  I  found. 

Sated  at  length,  ere  long  I  might  perceive 

Strange  alteration  in  me,  to  degree 

Of  reason  in  my  inward  powers,  and  speech 

Wanted  not  long,  though  to  this  shape  retained. 

Thenceforth  to  speculations  high  or  deep 

I  turn'd  my  thoughts,  and  with  capacious  mind 

Considered  all  things  visible  in  Heaven, 

Or  earth,  or  middle,  all  things  fair  and  good  :  605 

But  all  that  fair  and  good  in  thy  divine 

Semblance,  and  in  thy  beauty's  heavenly  ray, 

United  I  beheld ;  no  fair  to  thine 

Equivalent  or  second,  which  compell'd 

Me  thus,  though  importune  perhaps,  to  come 

And  gaze,  and  worship  thee,  of  right  declared 

Sovereign  of  creatures,  universal  dame." 

So  talk'd  the  spirited  sly  snake ;  and  Eve, 
Yet  more  amazed,  unwary  thus  replied : 

"  Serpent,  thy  overpraising  leaves  in  doubt 
The  virtue  of  that  fruit,  in  thee  first  proved :  61 6 


B.  IX.]  PARADISE    LOST.  223 

But  say,  where  grows  the  tree,  from  hence  how  far  ? 

For  many  are  the  trees  of  God  that  grow 

In  Paradise,  and  various,  yet  unknown 

To  us ;  in  such  abundance  lies  our  choice, 

As  leaves  a  greater  store  of  fruit  untouch'd, 

Still  hanging  incorruptible,  till  men 

Grow  up  to  their  provision,  and  more  hands 

Help  to  disburden  nature  of  her  birth." 

To  whom  the  wily  adder,  blithe  and  glad : 
"Empress,  the  way  is  ready,  and  not  long ;  G26 

Beyond  a  row  of  myrtles,  on  a  flat, 
Fast  by  a  fountain,  one  small  thicket  past 
Of  blowing  myrrh  and  balm :  if  thou  accept 
My  conduct,  I  can  bring  thee  thither  soon." 

"  Lead  then,"  said  Eve.     He,  leading,  swiftly  roll'd 
In  tangles,  and  made  intricate  seem  straight, 
To  mischief  swift.    Hope  elevates,  and  joy 
Brightens  his  crest :  as  when  a  wandering  fire, 
Compact  of  unctuous  vapor,  which  the  night 
Condenses,  and  the  cold  environs  round, 
Kindled  through  agitation  to  a  flame,  637 

"Which  oft,  they  say,  some  evil  spirit  attends, 
Hovering  and  blazing  with  delusive  light, 
Misleads  the  amazed  night- wanderer  from  his  way 
To  bogs  and  mires,  and  oft  through  pond  or  pool, 
There  swallow'd  up  and  lost,  from  succor  far ; 
So  glister' d  the  dire  snake,  and  into  fraud 
Led  Eve,  our  credulous  mother,  to  the  tree 
Of  prohibition,  root  of  all  our  woe ; 
Which  when  she  saw,  thus  to  her  guide  she  spake : 

"  Serpent,  we  might  have  spared  our  coming  hither, 
Fruitless  to  me,  though  fruit  be  here  to  excess,  648 

The  credit  of  whose  virtue  rest  with  thee, 
AYondrous  indeed,  if  cause  of  such  effects. 
But  of  this  tree  we  may  not  taste  nor  touch  ; 
God  so  commanded,  and  left  that  command 
Sole  daughter  of  his  voice ;  the  rest,  we  live 
Law  to  ourselves,  our  reason  is  our  law." 

To  whom  the  tempter  guilefully  replied : 
"  Indeed !  hath  God  then  said  that  of  the  fruit 
Of  all  these  garden  trees  ye  shall  not  eat, 
Yet  lords  declared  of  all  in  earth  or  air  ?" 

To  whom  thus  Eve,  yet  sinless :  "  Of  the  fruit         659 


224  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  TB.  is. 

Of  each  tree  in  the  garden  we  may  eat, 
But  of  the  fruit  of  this  fair  tree,  amidst 
The  garden,  God  hath  said,  c  Ye  shall  not  eat 
Thereof,  nor  shall  ye  touch  it,  lest  ye  die."  r 

She  scarce  had  said,  though  brief,  when,  now  more  bold, 
The  tempter,  but  with  show  of  zeal  and  love 
To  man,  and  indignation  at  his  wrong, 
New  part  puts  on ;  and,  as  to  passion  moved, 
Fluctuates  disturb'd,  yet  comely  and  in  act 
Kaised,  as  of  some  great  matter  to  begin.  609 

As  when  of  old  some  orator  renown'd, 
In  Athens  or  free  Rome,  where  eloquence 
Flourish'd,  since  mute,  to  some  great  cause  address'd, 
Stood  in  himself  collected,  while  each  part, 
Motion,  each  act,  won  audience  ere  the  tongue, 
Sometimes  in  height  began,  as  no  delay 
Of  preface  brooking  through  his  zeal  of  right : 
So  standing,  moving,  or  to  height  upgrown, 
The  tempter,  all  impassion'd,  thus  began  : 

"  0  sacred,  wise,  and  wisdom-giving  plant, 
Mother  of  science,  now  I  feel  thy  power  680 

Within  me  clear,  not  only  to  discern 
Things  in  their  causes,  but  to  trace  the  ways 
Of  highest  agents,  deem'd  however  wise. 
Queen  of  this  universe,  do  not  believe 
Those  rigid  threats  of  death ;  ye  shall  not  die : 
How  should  ye  ?     By  the  fruit  ?    It  gives  you  life 
To  knowledge.     By  the  threatener  ?     Look  on  me, 
Me  who  have  touch'd  and  tasted,  yet  both  live, 
And  life  more  perfect  have  attained  than  fate 
Meant  me,  by  venturing  higher  than  my  lot. 
Shall  that  be  shut  to  man,  which  to  the  beast  691 

Is  open  ?  or  will  God  incense  his  ire     . 
For  such  a  petty  trespass,  and  not  praise 
Rather  your  dauntless  virtue,  whom  the  pain 
Of  leath  denounced,  whatever  thing  death  be, 
DeterrM  not  from  achieving  what  might  lead 
To  happier  life,  knowledge  of  good  and  evil ; 
Of  good,  how  just?  of  evil,  if  what  is  evil 
Be  real,  why  not  known,  since  easier  shunnM  ? 
God  therefore  cannot  hurt  ye,  and  be  just; 
Not  just,  not  God ;  not  fear'd  then,  nor  obey'd  : 
Your  fear  itself  of  death  removes  the  fear.  702 


8.  IX.]  PARADISE    LOST.  225 

Why  then  was  this  forbid  ?     Why  but  to  awe, 

Why  but  to  keep  ye  low  and  ignorant, 

His  worshippers  ?     He  knows  that  in  the  day 

Ye  eat  thereof,  your  eyes,  that  seem  so  clear, 

Yet  are  but  dim,  shall  perfectly  be  then 

Open'd  and  clear'd,  and  ye  shall  be  as  gods, 

Knowing  both  good  and  evil  as  they  know. 

That  ye  shall  be  as  gods,  since  I  as  man, 

Internal  man,  is  but  proportion  meet ; 

I  of  brute  human,  ye  of  human  gods.  712 

So  ye  shall  die,  perhaps,  by  putting  off 

Human,  to  put  on  gods ;  death  to  be  wish'd. 

Though  threatened,  which  no  worse  than  this  can  bring. 

And  what  are  gods,  that  man  may  not  become 

As  they,  participating  god-like  food  ? 

The  gods  are  first,  and  that  advantage  use 

On  our  belief,  that  all  from  them  proceeds ; 

I  question  it,  for  this  fair  earth  I  see, 

Warm'd  by  the  sun,  producing  every  kind, 

Them  nothing :  if  they  all  things,  who  inclosed 

Knowledge  of  good  and  evil  in  this  tree,  723 

That  whoso  eats  thereof,  forthwith  attains 

Wisdom  without  their  leave  ?  and  wherein  lies 

The  offence,  that  man  should  thus  attain  to  know  ? 

What  can  your  knowlege  hurt  him,  or  this  tree 

Impart  against  his  will,  if  all  be  his  ? 

Or  is  it  envy,  and  can  envy  dwell 

In  heavenly  breasts  ?    These,  these,  and  many  more 

Causes  import  your  need  of  this  fair  fruit. 

Goddess  humane,  reach  them,  and  freely  taste." 

He  ended,  and  his  words,  replete  with  guile, 
Into  her  heart  too  easy  entrance  won.  734 

Fix'd  on  the  fruit  she  gazed,  which  to  behold 
Might  tempt  alone,  and  in  her  ears  the  sound 
Yet  rung  of  his  persuasive  words,  impregn'd 
With  reason,  to  her  seeming,  and  with  truth ; 
Meanwhile  the  hour  of  noon  drew  on,  and  waked 
An  eager  appetite,  raised  by  the  smell 
So  savory  of  that  fruit,  which  with  desire, 
Inclinable  now  grown  to  touch  or  taste, 
Solicited  her  longing  eye ;  yet  first, 
Pausing  awhile,  thus  to  herself  she  mused : 

"  Great  are  thy  virtues,  doubtless,  best  of  fruits,     745 


226  MILTON  S    POETICAL    WORKS.  [B.  IX 

Though  kept  from  man,  and  worthy  to  be  admired, 

Whose  taste,  too  long  forborne,  at  first  assay 

Gave  elocution  to  the  mute,  and  taught 

The  tongue  not  made  for  speech  to  speak  thy  praise : 

Thy  praise  He  also,  who  forbids  thy  use, 

Conceals  not  from  us,  naming  thee  the  tree 

Of  knowledge,  knowledge  both  of  good  and  evil ; 

Forbids  us  then  to  taste,  but  his  forbidding 

Commends  thee  more,  while  it  infers  the  good 

By  thee  communicated,  and  our  want :  755 

For  good  unknown,  sure  is  not  had ;  or,  had 

And  yet  unknown,  is  as  not  had  at  all. 

In  plain,  then,  what  forbids  He  but  to  know, 

Forbids  us  good,  forbids  us  to  be  wise  ? 

Such  prohibitions  bind  not.     But  if  death 

Bind  us  with  after-bands,  what  profits  then 

Our  inward  freedom  ?     In  the  day  we  eat 

Of  this  fair  fruit,  our  doom  is,  we  shall  die. 

How  dies  the  serpent  ?  he  hath  eaten  and  lives, 

And  knows,  and  speaks,  and  reasons,  and  discerns, 

Irrational  till  then.     For  us  alone  760 

Was  death  invented  ?  or  to  us  denied 

This  intellectual  food,  for  beasts  reserved  ? 

For  beasts,  it  seems :  yet  that  one  beast  which  first 

Hath  tasted,  envies  not,  but  brings  with  joy 

The  good  befallen  him,  author  unsuspect, 

Friendly  to  man,  far  from  deceit  or  guile. 

What  fear  I,  then?  rather,  what  know  to  fear 

Under  this  ignorance  of  good  and  evil, 

Of  God  or  death,  of  law  or  penalty  ? 

Here  grows  the  cure  of  all,  this  fruit  divine, 

Fair  to  the  eye,  inviting  to  the  taste,  777 

Of  virtue  to  make  wise :  what  hinders  then 

To  reach,  and  feed  at  once  both  body  and  mind  ?'7 

So  saying,  her  rash  hand  in  evil  hour 
Forth  reaching  to  the  fruit,  she  pluck'd,  she  ate : 
Earth  felt  the  wound,  and  nature  from  her  seat, 
Sighing  through  all  her  works,  gave  signs  of  woe 
That  all  was  lost.     Back  to  the  thicket  slunk 
•The  guilty  serpent ;  and  well  might,  for  Eve, 
Intent  now  wholly  on  her  taste,  naught  else 
Regarded ;  such  delight  till  then,  as  seem'd, 
In  fruit  she  never  tasted,  whether  true  788 


E.  IX.]  PARADISE    LOST.  227 

Or  fancied  so,  through  expectation  high 

Of  knowledge ;  nor  was  godhead  from  her  thought. 

Greedily  she  engorged  without  restraint, 

And  knew  not  eating  death.     Satiate  at  length, 

And  heighten'd  as  with  wine,  jocund  and  boon, 

Thus  to  herself  she  pleasingly  began  : 

"  0  sovereign,  virtuous,  precious  of  all  trees 
In  Paradise,  of  operation  blest 
To  sapience,  hitherto  obscured,  infaraed, 
And  thy  fair  fruit  let  hang,  as  to  no  end  798 

Created  ;  but  henceforth  my  early  care, 
!N"ot  without  song,  each  morning,  and  due  praise, 
Shall  tend  thee,  and  the  fertile  burden  ease 
Of  thy  full  branches,  offer'd  free  to  all ; 
Till,  dieted  by  thee,  I  grow  mature 
In  knowledge,  as  the  gods  who  all  things  know ; 
Though  others  envy  what  they  cannot  give ; 
For  had  the  gift  been  theirs,  it  had  not  here 
Thus  grown.     Experience,  next  to  thee  I  owe, 
Best  guide ;  not  following  thee,  I  had  remained 
In  ignorance ;  thou  open'st  wisdom's  way,  809 

And  giv'st  access,  though  secret  she  retire. 
And  I  perhaps  am  secret ;  Heaven  is  high, 
High,  and  remote  to  see  from  thence  distinct 
Each  thing  on  earth  ;  and  other  care  perhaps 
May  have  diverted  from  continual  watch 
Our  great  Forbidder,  safe  with  all  his  spies 
About  him.     But  to  Adam  in  what  sort 
Shall  I  appear  ?     Shall  I  to  him  make  known 
As  yet  my  change,  and  give  him  to  partake 
Full  happiness  with  me,  or  rather  not, 
But  keep  the  odds  of  knowledge  in  my  power  820 

"Without  copartner  ?  so  to  add  what  wants 
In  female  sex,  the  more  to  draw  his  love, 
And  render  me  more  equal,  and  perhaps, 
A  thing  not  undesirable,  sometime 
Superior ;  for  inferior  who  is  free  ? 
This  may  be  well :  but  what  if  God  have  seen, 
And  deatli  ensue  ?  then  I  shall  be  no  more, 
And  Adam,  wedded  to  another  Eve, 
Shall  live  with  her  enjoying,  I  extinct ; 
A  death  to  think.     Confirm'd  then  I  resolve. 
Adam  shall  share  with  me  in  bliss  or  woe:  831 

. 


228  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WOUKS.  fB.  ix 

So  dear  I  love  him,  that  with  him  all  deaths 
I  could  endure,  without  him  live  no  life." 

So  saying,  from  the  tree  her  step  she  tunrd, 
But  first  low  reverence  done,  as  to  the  power 
That  dwelt  within,  whose  presence  had  infused 
Into  the  plant  sciential  sap,  derived 
From  nectar,  drink  of  gods.     Adam  the  while, 
Waiting  desirous  her  return,  had  wove 
Of  choicest  flowers  a  garland  to  adorn 
Her  tresses,  and  her  rural  labors  crown,  841 

As  reapers  oft  are  wont  their  harvest  queen. 
Great  joy  he  promised  to  his  thoughts,  and  new 
Solace  in  her  return,  so  long  delay'd ; 
Yet  oft  his  heart,  divine  of  something  ill, 
Misgave  him ;  he  the  faltering  measure  felt ; 
And  forth  to  meet  her  went,  the  way  she  took 
That  morn  when  first  they  parted ;  by  the  tree 
Of  knowledge  he  must  pass,  there  he  her  met, 
Scarce  from  the  tree  returning ;  in  her  hand 
A  bough  of  fairest  fruit,  that  downy  smiled, 
New  gather'd,  and  ambrosial  srnell  diffused.  852 

To  him  she  hasted ;  in  her  face  excuse 
Came  prologue,  and  apology  too  prompt, 
"Which  with  bland  words  at  will  she  thus  addressed :  • 

"  Hast  thou  not  wonder'd,  Adam,  at  my  stay  ? 
Thee  I  have  miss'd,  and  thought  it  long,  deprived 
Thy  presence ;  agony  of  love  till  now 
Not  felt,  nor  shall  be  twice,  for  never  more 
Mean  I  to  try,  what  rash  untried  I  sought, 
The  pain  of  absence  from  thy  sight.     But  strange 
Hath  been  the  cause,  and  wonderful  to  hear. 
This  tree  is  not,  as  we  are  told,  a  tree  868 

Of  danger  tasted,  nor  to  evil  unknown 
Opening  the  way,  but  of  divine  effect 
To  open  eyes,  and  make  them  gods  who  taste ; 
And  hath  been  tasted  such :  the  serpent  wise, 
Or  not  restrain'd  as  we,  or  not  obeying, 
Hath  eaten  of  the  fruit,  and  is  become, 
Not  dead,  as  we  are  threatened,  but  thenceforth 
Endued  with  human  voice  and  human  sense, 
Reasoning  to  admiration ;  and  with  me 
Persuasively  hath  so  prevailed,  that  I 
Have  also  tasted,  and  have  also  found  874 


B.  IX.]  PARADISE    LOST.  229 

The  effects  to  correspond :   opener  mine  eyes, 

Dim  erst,  dilated  spirits,  ampler  heart, 

And  growing  up  to  godhead ;   which  for  thee 

Chiefly  I  sought,  without  thee  can  despise. 

For  bliss,  as  thou  hast  part,  to  me  is  bliss ; 

Tedious,  unshared  with  thee,  and  odious  soon. 

Thou  therefore  also  taste,  that  equal  lot 

May  join  us,  equal  joy,  as  equal  love ; 

Lest,  thou  not  tasting,  different  degree 

Disjoin  us,  and  I  then  too  late  renounce  884 

Deity  for  thee,  when  fate  will  not  permit." 

Thus  Eve,  with  countenance  blithe,  her  story  told 
But  in  her  cheek  distemper  flushing  glow'd. 
On  the  other  side,  Adam,  soon  as  he  heard 
The  fatal  trespass  done  by  Eve,  amazed, 
Astonied  stood  and  blank,  while  horror  chill 
Ran  through  his  veins,  and  all  his  joints  relax'd ; 
From  his  slack  hand  the  garland  wreathed  for  Eve 
Down  dropt,  and  all  the  faded  roses  shed : 
Speechless  he  stood  and  pale,  till  thus  at  length 
First  to  himself  he  inward  silence  broke :  895 

"  0  fairest  of  creation,  last  and  best 
Of  all  God's  works,  creature  in  whom  excelFd 
Whatever  can  to  sight  or  thought  be  formed, 
Holy,  divine,  good,  amiable,  or  sweet ! 
How  art  thou  lost,  how  on  a  sudden  lost, 
Defaced,  deflower'd,  and  now  to  death  devote ! 
Rather,  how  hast  thou  yielded  to  transgress 
The  strict  forbiddance,  how  to  violate 
The  sacred  fruit  forbidden !    Some  cursed  fraud 
Of  enemy  hath  beguiled  thee,  yet  unknown, 
And  me  with  thee  hath  ruin'd,  for  with  thee  906 

Certain  my  resolution  is  to  die.. 
How  can  I  live  without  thee,  how  forego 
Thy  sweet  converse,  and  love  so  dearly  join'd, 
To  live  again  in  these  wild  woods  forlorn  ? 
Should  God  create  another  Eve,  and  I 
Another  rib  afford,  yet  loss  of  thee 
Would  never  from  my  heart ;  no,  no,  I  feel 
The  link  of  nature  draw  me :  flesh  of  flesh, 
Bone  of  my  bone  thou  art,  and  from  thy  state 
Mine  never  shall  be  parted,  bliss  or  woe." 

So  having  said,  as  one  from  sad  dismay  917 

20 


230  MILTON'b    POETICAL    WORKS.  B.  IX 

Kecomforted,  and,  after  thoughts  disturb'd, 

Submitting  oo  what  seem'd  remediless, 

Thus  in  calm  mood  his  words  to  Eve  he  turn  d : 

"Bold  deed  thou  hast  presumed,  adventurous  Eve, 
And  peril  great  provoked,  who  thus  hast  dared, 
Had  it  been  only  coveting  to  eye 
That  sacred  fruit,  sacred  to  abstinence, 
Much  more  to  taste  it  under  ban  to  touch. 
But  past  who  can  recall,  or  done  undo  ? 
Not  God  omnipotent,  nor  fate ;  yet  so  927 

Perhaps  thou  shalt  not  die,  perhaps  the  fact 
Is  not  so  heinous  now,  foretasted  fruit, 
Profaned  first  by  the  serpent,  by  him  first 
Made  common  and  unhallow'd  ere  our  taste ; 
ISTor  yet  on  him  found  deadly,  he  yet  lives, 
Lives  as  thou  saidst,  and  gains  to  live,  as  man, 
Higher  degree  of  life :  inducement  strong 
To  us,  as  likely  tasting  to  attain 
Proportional  ascent,  which  cannot  be 
But  to  be  gods,  or  angels,  demi-gods. 
Nor  can  I  think  that  God,  Creator  wise,  038 

Though  threatening,  will  in  earnest  so  destroy 
Us  his  prime  creatures,  dignified  so  high, 
Set  over  all  his  works,  which  in  our  fall, 
For  us  created,  needs  with  us  must  fail, 
Dependent  made ;  so  God  shall  uncreate, 
Be  frustrate,  do,  undo,  and  labor  lose, 
Not  well  conceived  of  God,  who  though  his  power 
Creation  could  repeat,  yet  would  be  loth 
Us  to  abolish,  lest  the  adversary 
Triumph  and  say,  '  Fickle  their  state  whom  God 
Most  favors ;  who  can  please  him  long  ?     Me  first      949 
He  ruin'd,  now  mankind ;  whom  will  he  next?' 
Matter  of  scorn,  not  to  be  given  the  foe. 
However,  I  with  thee  have  fix'd  my  lot, 
Certain  to  undergo  like  doom ;  if  death 
Consort  with  thee,  death  is  to  me  as  life ; 
So  forcible  within  my  heart  I  feel 
The  bond  of  nature  draw  me  to  my  own, 
My  own  in  thee,  for  what  thou  art  is  mine ; 
Our  state  cannot  be  sever' d,  we  are  one, 
One  flesh ;  to  lose  thee  were  to  lose  myself." 

So  Adam,  and  thus  Eve  to  him  replied  960 


B.  IX. J  PARADISE    LOST.  231 

• 

"  0  glorious  trial  of  exceeding  love, 

Illustrious  evidence,  example  high ! 

Engaging  me  to  emulate  ;  but,  short 

Of  thy  perfection,  how  shall  I  attain, 

Adam,  from  whose  dear  side  I  boast  me  sprung  ? 

And  gladly  of  our  union  hear  thee  speak, 

One  heart,  one  soul  in  both ;  whereof  good  proof 

This  day  affords,  declaring  thee  resolved, 

Rather  than  death,  or  aught  than  death  more  dread, 

Shall  separate  us,  link'd  in  love  so  dear,  9 TO 

To  undergo  with  me  one  guilt,  one  crime, 

If  any  be,  of  tasting  this  fair  fruit, 

Whose  virtue  (for  of  good  still  good  proceeds, 

Direct,  or  by  occasion)  hath  presented- 

This  happy  trial  of  thy  love,  which  else 

So  eminently  never  had  been  known. 

Were  it  I  thought  death  menaced  would  ensue 

This  my  attempt,  I  would  sustain  alone 

The  worst,  and  not  persuade  thee ;  rather  die 

Deserted,  than  oblige  thee  with  a  fact 

Pernicious  to  thy  peace,  chiefly  assured  981 

Remarkably  so  late  of  thy  so  true, 

So  faithful  love  unequall'd :  but  I  feel 

Far  otherwise  the  event ;  not  death,  but  life 

Augmented,  open'd  eyes,  new  hopes,  new  joys, 

Taste  so  divine,  that  what  of  sweet  before 

Hath  touch' d  my  sense,  flat  seems  to  this,  and  harsh. 

On  my  experience,  Adam,  freely  taste, 

And  fear  of  death  deliver  to  the  winds." 

So  saying,  she  embraced  him,  and  for  joy 
Tenderly  wept,  much  won  that  he  his  love 
Had  so  ennobled,  as  of  choice  to  incur  992 

Divine  displeasure  for  her  sake,  or  death.. 
In  recompense,  (for  such  compliance  bad 
Such  recompense  best  merits,)  from  the  bough 
She  gave  him  of  that  fair  enticing  fruit 
With  liberal  hand :  he  scrupled  not  to  eat, 
Against  his  better  knowledge ;  not  deceived, 
But  fondly  overcome  with  female  charm. 
Earth  trembled  from  her  entrails,  as  again 
In  pangs,  and  nature  gave  a  second  groan ; 
Sky  lower'd,  and,  muttering  thunder,  some  sad  drops 
Wept  at  completing  of  the  mortal  sin  1003 


232  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  IB.  ix. 

• 

Original ;  while  Adam  took  no  thought. 
Eating  his  fill,  nor  Eve  to  iterate 
Her  former  trespass  fear'd,  the  more  to  soothe 
Him  with  her  loved  society,  that  now, 
As  with  new  wine  intoxicated  both, 
They  swim  in  mirth,  and  fancy  that  they  feel 
Divinity  within  them  breeding  wings 
Wherewith  to  scorn  the  earth :  but  that  false  fruit 
Far  other  operation  first  displayed, 
Carnal  desire  inflaming ;  he  on  Eve  1015 

Began  to  cast  lascivious  eyes,  she  him 
As  wantonly  repaid ;  in  lust  they  burn : 
Till  Adam  thus  'gan  Eve  to  dalliance  move : 

"  Eve,  now  I  see  thou  art  exact  of  taste, 
And  elegant,  of  sapience  no  small  part, 
Since  to  each  meaning  savor  we  apply, 
And  palate  call  judicious;  I  the  praise 
Yield  thee,  so  well  this  day  thou  hast  purveyed. 
Much  pleasure  we  have  lost,  while  we  abstained 
From  this  delightful  fruit,  nor  known  till  now 
True  relish,  tasting ;  if  such  pleasure  be  1024 

In  things  to  us  forbidden,  it  might  be  wished 
For  this  one  tree  had  been  forbidden  ten. 
But  come,  so  well  refresh'd,  now  let  us  play, 
As  meet  is,  after  such  delicious  fare ; 
For  never  did  thy  beauty,  since  the  day 
I  saw  thee  first  and  wedded  thee,  adorn' d 
"With  all  perfections,  so  inflame  my  sense 
"With  ardor  to  enjoy  thee,  fairer  now 
Than  ever,  bounty  of  this  virtuous  tree." 

So  said  he,  and  forbore  not  glance  or  toy 
Of  amorous  intent,  well  understood  1035 

Of  Eve,  whose  eye  darted  contagious  fire. 
Her  hand  he  seized,  and  to  a  shady  bank, 
Thick  overhead  with  verdant  roof  embower'd, 
He  led  her,  nothing  loth ;  flowers  were  the  couch, 
Pansies,  and  violets,  and  asphodel, 
And  hyacinth,  earth's  freshest,  softest  lap. 
There  they  their  fill  of  love  and  love's  disport 
Took  largely,  of  their  mutual  guilt  the  seal, 
The  solace  of  their  sin,  till  dewy  sleep 
Oppressed  them,  wearied  with  their  amorous  play. 

Soon  as  the  force  of  that  fallacious  fruit,  1046 


B.  IX.]  PARADISE    LOST.  233 

That  with  exhilarating  vapor  bland 

About  their  spirits  had  play'd,  and  inmost  powers 

Made  err,  was  now  exhaled ;  and  grosser  sleep, 

Bred  of  unkindly  fumes,  with  conscious  dreams 

Encumber'd,  now  had  left  them  ;  up  they  rose 

As  from  unrest,  and,  each  the  other  viewing, 

Soon  found  their  eyes  how  open'd,  and  their  minds 

How  darkened ;  innocence,  that  as  a  veil 

Had  shadow'd  them  from  knowing  ill,  was  gone, 

Just  confidence,  and  native  righteousness,  1050 

And  honor  from  about  them,  naked  left 

To  guilty  shame ;  he  cover'd,  but  his  robe 

Uncovered  more.     So  rose  the  Danite  strong, 

Herculean  Samson,  from  the  harlot-lap 

Of  Philistean  Dalilah,  and  waked 

Shorn  of  his  strength.     They  destitute  and  bare 

Of  all  their  virtue :  silent,  and  in  face 

Confounded,  long  they  sat,  as  strucken  mute, 

Till  Adam,  though  not  less  than  Eve  abash'd, 

At  length  gave  utterance  to  these  words  constrained  : 

"  O  Eve,  in  evil  hour  thou  didst  give  ear  1067 

To  that  false  worm,  of  whomsoever  taught 
To  counterfeit  man's  voice,  true  in  our  fall, 
False  in  our  promised  rising ;  since  our  eyes 
Open'd  we  find  indeed,  and  find  we  know 
Both  good  and  evil,  good  lost,  and  evil  got : 
Bad  fruit  of  knowledge,  if  this  be  to  know, 
Which  leaves  us  naked  thus,  of  honor  void, 
Of  innocence,  of  faith,  of  purity, 
Our  wonted  ornaments  now  soil'd  and  stain'd, 
And  in  our  faces  evident  the  signs 

Of  foul  concupiscence ;  whence  evil  store ;  1 078 

Even  shame,  the  last  of  evils ;  of  the  first 
Be  sure  then.    How  shall  I  behold  the  face 
Henceforth  of  God  or  angel,  erst  with  joy 
And  rapture  so  oft  beheld  ?  those  heavenly  shapes 
"Will  dazzle  now  this  earthly  with  their  blaze 
Insufferably  bright.     0  might  I  here 
In  solitude  live  savage,  in  some  glade 
Obscured,  where  highest  woods,  impenetrable 
To  star  or  sun-light,  spread  their  umbrage  broad 
And  brown  as  evening.     Cover  me,  ye  pines, 
Ye  cedars,  with  innumerable  boughs  1089 


234  .MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  ix. 

Hide  mo,  where  I  may  never  see  them  more. 

But  let  us  now,  as  in  bad  plight,  devise 

What  best  may  for  the  present  serve  to  hide 

The  parts  of  each  from  other,  that  seem  most 

To  shame  obnoxious,  and  unseemliest  seen ; 

Some  tree,  whose  broad  smooth  leaves  together  sewYl, 

And  girded  on  our  loins,  may  cover  round 

Those  middle  parts,  that  this  new-comer,  shame, 

There  sit  not,  and  reproach  us  as  unclean." 

So  counseled  he,  and  both  together  went  1099 

Into  the  thickest  wood ;  there  soon  they  chose 
The  fig-tree,  not  that  kind  for  fruit  renown'd, 
But  such  as  at  this  day  to  Indians  known 
In  Malabar  or  Deccan  spreads  her  arms 
Branching  so  broad  and  long,  that  in  the  ground 
The  bended  twigs  take  root,  and  daughters  grow 
About  the  mother  tree,  a  pillar'd  shade 
High  overarch'd,  and  echoing  walks  between ; 
There  oft  the  Indian  herdsman,  shunning  heat, 
Shelters  in  cool,  and  tends  his  pasturing  herds 
At  loop-holes  cut  through  thickest  shade.    Those  leaves 
They  gather'd,  broad  as  Amazonian  targe,  111] 

And  with  what  skill  they  had,  together  sew'd, 
To  gird  their  waist :  vain  covering,  if  to  hide 
Their  guilt  and  dreaded  shame !  O  how  unlike 
To  that  first  naked  glory !     Such  of  late 
Columbus  found  the  American,  so  girt 
With  feather'd  cincture,  naked  else  and  wild 
Among  the  trees  on  isles  and  woody  shores. 
Thus  fenced,  and  as  they  thought,  their  shame  in  part 
Cover'd,  but  not  at  rest  or  ease  of  mind, 
They  sat  them  down  to  weep ;  nor  only  tears  1121 

Kain'd  at  their  eyes,  but  high  winds  worse  within 
Began  to  rise,  high  passions,  anger,  hate, 
Mistrust,  suspicion,  discord,  and  shook  sore 
Their  inward  state  of  mind,  calm  region  once 
And  full  of  peace,  now  tost  and  turbulent : 
For  understanding  ruled  not,  and  the  will 
Heard  not  her  lore,  both  in  subjection  now 
To  sensual  appetite,  who  from  beneath 
Usurping  over  sovereign  reason,  claim'd 
Superior  sway.    From  thus  distemper'd  breast, 
Adam,  estranged  in  look  and  alter'd  style,  1132 


B.  IX.J  PARADISE    LOST.  '235 

Speech  intermitted  thus  to  Eve  renew  'd : 

" "  Would  thou  hadst  hearken' d  to  my  words,  and  stayM 
"With  me,  as  I  besought  thee,  when  that  strange 
Desire  of  wandering,  this  unhappy  morn, 
I  .know  not  whence  possess'd  thee ;  we  had  then 
Remained  still  happy,  not,  as  now,  despoiPd 
Of  all  our  good,  shamed,  naked,  miserable. 
Let  none  henceforth  seek  needless  cause  to  approve 
The  faith  they  owe ;  when  earnestly  they  seek 
Such  proof,  conclude,  they  then  begin  to  fail."          1142 

To  whom,  soon  moved  with  touch  of  blame,  thus  Eve : 
"  "What  words  have  pass'd  thy  lips,  Adam,  severe ! 
Imput'st  thou  that  to  my  default,  or  will 
Of  wandering,  as  thou  calPst  it,  which  who  knows 
But  might  as  ill  have  happenM  thou  being  by, 
Or  to  thyself  perhaps  ?     Hadst  thou  been  there, 
Or  here  the  attempt,  thou  couldst  not  have  discerned 
Fraud  in  the  serpent,  speaking  as  he  spake ; 
No  ground  of  enmity  between  us  known, 
Why  he  should  mean  me  ill,  or  seek  to  harm. 
Was  I  to  have  never  parted  from  thy  side  ? 
As  good  have  grown  there  still  a  lifeless  rib.  1154 

Being  as  I  am,  why  didst  not  thou,  the  head, 
Command  me  absolutely  not  to  go. 
Going  into  such  danger  as  thou  saidst  ? 
Too  facile  then,  thou  didst  not  much  gainsay, 
Kay,  didst  permit,  approve,  and  fair  dismiss. 
Hadst  thou  been  firm  and  fix'd  in  thy  dissent, 
Neither  had  I  transgress'd,  nor  thou  with  me." 

To  whom  then,  first  incensed,  Adam  replied : 
u  Is  this  the  love,  is  this  the  recompense 
Of  mine  to  thee,  ungrateful  Eve,  expressed  1164 

Immutable  when  thou  wert  lost,  not  I, 
Who  might  have  lived  and  joy'd  immortal  bliss, 
Yet  willingly  chose  rather  death  with  thee  ? 
And  am  I  now  upbraided  as  the  cause 
Of  thy  transgressing  ?  not  enough  severe, 
It  seems,  in  thy  restraint :  what  could  I  more  ? 
I  warn'd  thee,  I  admonish'd  thee,  foretold 
The  danger,  and  the  lurking  enemy 
That  lay  in  wait ;  beyond  this  had  been  force, 
And  force  upon  free  will  hath  here  no  place. 
But  confidence  then  bore  thee  on,  secure  1175 


236  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  ix 

Either  to  meet  no  danger,  or  to  find 

Matter  of  glorious  trial ;  and  perhaps 

I  also  err'd  in  overmuch  admiring 

What  seeni'd  in  thee  so  perfect,  that  I  thought 

No  evil  durst  attempt  thee ;  but  I  rue 

That  error  now,  which  is  become  my  crime, 

And  thou  the  accuser.    Thus  it  shall  befall 

Him  who  to  worth  in  woman  overtrusting 

Lets  her  will  rule ;  restraint  she  will  not  brook, 

And  left  to  herself,  if  evil  thence  ensue,  1185 

She  first  his  weak  indulgence  will  accuse" 

Thus  they  in  mutual  accusation  spent 
The  fruitless  hours,  but  neither  self-condemning, 
And  of  their  vain  contest  appeared  no  end. 


PARADISE   LOST. 


BOOK  X. 

THE    ARGUMENT. 

Man's  transgression  known,  the  guardian  angels  forsake  Paradise,  and  return  up  to 
Heaven  to  approve  their  vigilance,  and  are  approved ;  God  declaring  that  the  en- 
trance of  Satan  could  not  be  by  them  prevented.  He  sends  his  Son  to  judge  the 
transgressors,  who  descends  and  gives  sentence  accordingly  ;  then  in  pity  clothes 
them  both,  and  reascends.  Sin  and  Death,  sitting  till  then  at  the  gates  of  Hell,  by 
wondrous  sympathy,  feeling  the  success  of  Satan  in  this  new  world,  and  the  sin  by 
man  there  committed,  resolve  to  sit  no  longer  confined  in  Hell,  but  to  follow  Satan 
their  sire  up  to  the  place  of  man.  To  make  the  way  easier  from  Hell  to  this  world 
to  and  fro,  they  pave  a  broad  highway  or  bridge  over  chaos,  according  to  the 
track  that  Satan  first  made ;  then,  preparing  for  earth,  they  meet  him,  proud  of 
his  success,  returning  to  Hell :  their  mutual  gratulation.  Satan  arrives  at  Pande- 
monium ;  in  full  assembly  relates,  with  boasting,  his  success  against  man ;  instead 
of  applause  is  entertained  with  a  general  hiss  by  all  his  audience,  transformed  with 
himself  also  suddenly  into  serpents,  according  to  his  doom  given  in  Paradise ; 
then,  deluded  with  a  show  of  the  forbidden  tree  springing  up  before  them,  they 
greedily  reaching  to  take  of  the  fruit,  chew  dust  and  bitter  ashes.  The  proceed 
ings  of  Sin  and  Death.  God  foretells  the  final  victory  of  his  Son  over  them,  and 
the  renewing  of  all  things  ;  but,  for  the  present,  commands  his  angels  to  make 
several  alterations  in  the  Heavens  and  elements.  Adam,  more  and  more  perceiv- 
ing his  fallen  condition,  heavily  bewails ;  rejects  the  condolement  of  Eve :  she 
persists,  and  at  length  appeases  him :  then,  to  evade  the  curse  likely  to  fall  on 
their  offspring,  proposes  to  Adam  violent  ways,  which  he  approves  not,  but,  cou- 
ceiving  better  hope,  puts  her  in  mind  of  the  late  promise  made  them,  that  her  seed 
should  be  revenged  on  the  serpent,  and  exhorts  her,  with  him,  to  seek  peace  with 
the  offended  Deity  by  repentance  and  supplication. 

MEANWHILE  the  heinous  and  despiteful  act 

Of  Satan  done  in  Paradise,  and  how 

He  in  the  serpent  had  perverted  Eve, 

Her  husband  she,  to  taste  the  fatal  fruit, 

Was  known  in  Heaven ;  for  what  can  'scape  the  eye 

Of  God  all-seeing,  or  deceive  his  heart 

Omniscient  ?  who,  in  all  things  wise  and  just, 

Hinder'd  not  Satan  to  attempt  the  mind 

Of  man,  with  strength  entire,  and  free-will  arm VI, 

Complete  to  have  discover'd  and  repulsed 

"Whatever  wiles  of  foe  or  seeming  friend.  11 


238  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  x 

For  still  they  knew,  and  ought  to  have  still  remember d, 

The  high  injunction  not  to  taste  that  fruit, 

Whoever  tempted ;  which  they  not  obeying, 

Incurred  (what  could  they  less  ?)  the  penalty, 

And,  manifold  in  sin,  deserved  to  fall. 

Up  into  Heaven  from  Paradise  in  haste 

The  angelic  guards  ascended,  mute  and  sad 

For  man,  for  of  his  state  by  this  they  knew, 

Much  wondering  how  the  subtle  fiend  had  stolen 

Entrance  unseen.     Soon  as  the  unwelcome  news          21 

From  earth  arrived  at  Heaven-gate,  displeased 

All  were  who  heard ;  dim  sadness  did  not  spare 

That  time  celestial  visages,  yet,  mix'd 

With  pity,  violated  not  their  bliss. 

About  the  new-arrived,  in  multitudes 

The  ethereal  people  ran,  to  hear  and  know 

How  all  befell :  they  towards  the  throne  supreme 

Accountable  made  haste  to  make  appear 

With  righteous  plea  their  utmost  vigilance, 

And  easily  approved ;  when  the  most  high 

Eternal  Father,  from  his  secret  cloud,  32 

Amidst  in  thunder  utter'd  thus  his  voice : 

"  Assembled  angels,  and  ye  powers  returned 
From  unsuccessful  charge,  be  not  dismay 'd, 
Nor  troubled  at  these  tidings  from  the  earth, 
Which  your  sincerest  care  could  not  prevent, 
Foretold  so  lately  what  would  come  to  pass, 
When  first  this  tempter  cross'd  the  gulf  from  HelL 
I  told  ye  then  he  should  prevail  and  speed 
On  his  bad  errand,  man  should  be  seduced 
And  flatter'd  out  of  all,  believing  lies 
Against  his  Maker ;  no  decree  of  mine  43 

Concurring  to  necessitate  his  fall, 
Or  touch  with  lightest  moment  of  impulse 
His  free  will,  to  her  own  inclining  left 
In  even  scale.    But  falPn  he  is ;  and  now 
What  rests,  but  that  the  mortal  sentence  pass 
On  his  transgression,  death  denounced  that  day  ? 
Which  he  presumes  already  vain  and  void, 
Because  not  yet  inflicted,  as  he  fear'd, 
By  some  immediate  stroke ;  but  soon  shall  find 
Forbearance  no  acquittance  ere  day  end. 
Justice  shall  not  return  as  bounty  scorn'd.  54 


B.  X.]  PARADISE    LOST.  239 

But  whom  send  I  to  judge  them  ?     "Whom  but  thee, 

Vicegerent  Son  ?    To  thee  I  have  transferred 

All  judgment,  whether  in  Heaven,  or  Earth,  or  Hell. 

Easy  it  may  be  seen  that  I  intend 

Mercy  colleague  with  justice,  sending  thee 

Man's  friend,  his  mediator,  his  designed 

Both  ransom  and  redeemer  voluntary, 

And  destined  man  himself  to  judge  man  fall'n." 

So  spake  the  Father,  and  unfolding  bright 
Toward  the  right  hand  his  glory,  on  the  Son  fl-l 

Blazed  forth  unclouded  deity  ;  he  full 
Resplendent  all  his  Father  manifest 
Express'd,  and  thus  divinely  answer'd  mild  :   . 

"  Father  eternal,  thine  is  to  decree, 
Mine  both  in  Heaven  and  earth  to  do  thy  will 
Supreme,  that  thou  in  me  thy  Son  beloved 
Mayst  ever  rest  well  pleased.    I  go  to  judge 
On'earth  these  thy  transgressors,  but  thou  know'st, 
Whoever  judged,  the  worst  on  me  must  light, 
When  time  shall  be,  for  so  I  undertook 
Before  thee ;  and  not  repenting,  this  obtain  75 

Of  right,  that  I  may  mitigate  their  doom 
On  me  derived :  yet  I  shall  temper  so 
Justice  with  mercy,  as  may  illustrate  most 
Them  fully  satisfied,  and  thee  appease. 
Attendance  none  shall  need,  nor  train,  where  none 
Are  to  behold  the  judgment,  but  the  judged, 
Those  two ;  the  third  best  absent  is  condemn'd, 
Convict  by  flight,  and  rebel  to  all  law : 
Conviction  to  the  serpent  none  belongs." 

Thus  saying,  from  his  radiant  seat  he  rose 
Of  high  collateral  glory :  him  thrones  and  powers,       86 
Princedoms  and  dominations,  ministrant, 
Accompanied  to  Heaven-gate,  from  whence 
Eden  and  all  the  coast  in  prospect  lay. 
Down  he  descended  straight ;  the  speed  of  gods 
Time  counts  not,  though  with  swiftest  minutes  wingVl. 
Now  was  the  sun  in  western  cadence  low 
From  noon,  and  gentle  airs,  due  at  their  hour, 
To  fan  the  earth  now  waked,  and  usher  in 
The  evening  cool,  when  he,  from  wrath  more  cool, 
Came  the  mild  Judge  and  Intercessor  both, 
To  sentence  man :  the  voice  of  God  they  heard  97 


240  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  |B.  x, 

Now  walking  in  the  garden,  by  soft  winds 
Brought  to  their  ears,  while  day  declined ;  they  Jeard, 
And  from  his  presence  hid  themselves  among 
The  thickest  trees,  both  man  and  wife,  till  God 
Approaching,  thus  to  Adam  call'd  aloud  : 

u  Where  art  thou,  Adam,  wont  with  joy  to  meet 
My  coming  seen  far  off?    I  miss  thee  here, 
Not  pleased,  thus  entertain'd  with  solitude, 
Where  obvious  duty  erewhile  appeared  unsought ; 
Or  come  I  less  conspicuous,  or  what  change  107 

Absents  thee,  or  what  chance  detains  ?     Come  forth." 
He  came,  and  with  him  Eve,  more  loth,  though  first 
To  offend,  discountenanced  both,  and  discomposed ; 
Love  was  not  in  their  looks,  either  to  God 
Or  to  each  other,  but  apparent  guilt, 
And  shame,  and  perturbation,  and  despair, 
Anger,  and  obstinacy,  and  hate,  and  guile. 
Whence  Adam,  faltering  long,  thus  answer'd  brief : 

"  I  heard  thee  in  the  garden,  and  of  thy  voice 
Afraid,  being  naked,  hid  myself."    To  whom 
The  gracious  Judge  without  revile  replied :  118 

"My  voice  thou  oft  hast  heard,  and  hast  not  fear'd, 
But  still  rejoiced ;  how  is  it  now  become 
So  dreadful  to  thee  ?    That  thou  art  naked,  who 
Hath  told  thee  ?    Hast  thou  eaten  of  the  tree, 
Whereof  I  gave  thee  charge  thou  shouldst  not  eat?" 

To  whom  thus  Adam,  sore  beset,  replied : 
"  0  Heaven  I  in  evil  strait  this  day  I  stand 
Before  my  Judge,  either  to  undergo 
Myself  the  total  crime,  or  to  accuse 
My  other  self,  the  partner  of  my  life ; 
Whose  failing,  while  her  faith  to  me  remains,  129 

I  should  conceal,  and  not  expose  to  blame 
By  my  complaint ;  but  strict  necessity 
Subdues  me,  and  calamitous  constraint, 
Lest  on  my  head  both  sin  and  punishment, 
However  insupportable,  be  all 
Devolved ;  though  should  I  hold  my  peace,  yet  thou 
Wouldst  easily  detect  what  I  conceal. 
This  woman,  whom  thou  mad'st  to  be  my  help, 
And  gav'st  me  as  thy  perfect  gift,  so  good, 
So  fit,  so  acceptable,  so  divine, 
That  from  her  hand  I  could  suspect  no  ill,  140 


B    X.]  PARADISE    LOST.  241 

And  what  she  did,  whatever  in  itself, 
Her  doing  seein'd  to  justify  the  deed ; 
She  gave  me  of  the  tree,  and  I  did  eat." 

To  whom  the  sovereign  Presence  thus  replied : 
"  Was  she  thy  God,  that  her  thou  didst  obey 
Before  his  voice  ?  or  was  she  made  thy  guide, 
Superior,  or  but  equal,  that  to  her 
Thou  didst  resign  thy  manhood,  and  the  place 
Wherein  God  set  thee  above  her  made  of  thee, 
And  for  thee,  whose  perfection  far  excell'd  150 

Hers  in  all  real  dignity  ?     Adorn'd 
She  was  indeed,  and  lovely  to  attract 
Thy  love,  not  thy  subjection ;  and  her  gifts 
Were  such  as  under  government  well  seem'd, 
Unseemly  to  bear  rule,  which  was  thy  part 
And  person,  hadst  thou  known  thyself  aright.1" 

So  having  said,  he  thus  to  Eve  in  few  : 
"  Say,  woman,  what  is  this  which  thou  hast  done  ?" 

To  whom  sad  Eve,  with  shame  nigh  overwhelmed, 
Confessing  soon,  yet  not  before  her  Judge 
Bold  or  loquacious,  thus  abash'd  replied :  161 

"  The  serpent  me  beguiled,  and  I  did  eat." 

Which  when  the  Lord  God  heard,  without  delay 
To  judgment  he  proceeded  on  the  accused 
Serpent  though  brute,  unable  to  transfer 
The  guilt  on  him  who  made  him  instrument 
Of  mischief,  and  polluted  from  the  end 
Of  his  creation ;  justly  then  accursed, 
As  vitiated  in  nature :  more  to  know 
Concerned  not  man  (since  he  no  further  knew) 
Nor  alter'd  his  offei  ice ;  yet  God  at  last 
To  Satan,  first  in  sin,  his  doom  applied,  172 

Though  in  mysterious  terms,  judged  as  then  best ; 
And  on  the  serpent  thus  his  curse  let  fall : 

u  Because  thou  hast  done  this,  thou  art  accursed 
Above  all  cattle,  each  beast  of  the  field ; 
Upon  thy  belly  grovelling  thou  shalt  go, 
And  dust  shalt  eat  all  the  days  of  thy  life. 
Between  thee  and  the  woman  I  will  put 
Enmity,  and  between  thine  and  her  seed : 
Her  seed  sh,all  bruise  thy  head,  thou  bruise  his  heel." 

So  spake  this  oracle,  then  verified 

When  Jesus,  son  of  Mary,  second  Eve,  183 

21 


242  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  x 

Saw  Satan  fall  like  lightning  down  from  Heaven, 
Prince  of  the  air ;  then  rising  from  his  grave, 
Spoil'd  principalities  and  powers,  triumph'd 
In  open  show,  and  with  ascension  bright 
Captivity  led  captive  through  the  air, 
The  realm  itself  of  Satan  long  usurp'd, 
Whom  he  shall  tread  at  last  under  our  feet ; 
Even  he  who  now  foretold  his  fatal  bruise ; 
And  to  the  woman  thus  his  sentence  turn'd  : 

"  Thy  sorrow  I  will  greatly  multiply  11)': 

By  thy  conception ;  children  thou  shalt  bring 
In  sorrow  forth ;  and  to  thy  husband's  will 
Thine  shall  submit;  he  over  thee  shall  rule." 

On  Adam  last  thus  judgment  he  pronounced : 
u  Because  thou  hast  hearken' d  to  the  voice  of  thy  wife 
And  eaten  of  the  tree,  concerning  which 
I  charged  thee,  saying,  l  Thou  shalt  not  eat  thereof,' 
Cursed  is  the  ground  for  thy  sake;  thou  in  sorrow 
Shalt  eat  thereof  all  the  days  of  thy  life ; 
Thorns  also  and  thistles  it  shall  bring  thee  forth 
Unbid ;  and  thou  shalt  eat  the  herb  of  the  field ;          204 
In  the  sweat  of  thy  face  shalt  thou  eat  bread, 
Till  thou  return  unto  the  ground ;  for  thou 
Out  of  the  ground  wast  taken,  know  thy  birth, 
For  dust  thou  art,  and  shalt  to  dust  return." 

So  judged  he  man,  both  Judge  and  Saviour  sent, 
And  the  instant  stroke  of  death  denounced,  that  day 
Kemoved  far  off;  then  pitying  how  they  stood 
Before  him  naked  to  the  air,  that  now 
Must  suffer  change,  disdain'd  not  to  begin 
Thenceforth  the  form  of  servant  to  assume, 
As  when  he  wash'd  his  servants'  feet ;  so  now,          215 
As  father  of  his  family,  he  clad 
Their  nakedness  with  skins  of  beasts^  or  slain, 
Or  as  the  snake  with  youthful  coat  repaid ; 
And  thought  not  much  to  clothe  his  enemies : 
Nor  he  their  outward  only  with  the  skins 
Of  beasts,  but  inward  nakedness,  much  more 
Opprobrious,  with  his  robe  of  righteousness 
Arraying,  cover'd  from  his  Father's  sight. 
To  him  with  swift  ascent  he  up  return'd, 
Into  his  blissful  bosom  reassumed 
In  glory  as  of  old ;  to  him  appeased  226 


B.  X.]  PARADISE    LOST.  243 

All,  though  all-knowing,  what  had  pass'd  with  man 
Recounted,  mixing  intercession  sweet. 

Meanwhile,  ere  thus  was  sinn'd  and  judged  on  earth, 
Within  the  gates  of  Hell  sat  Sin  and  Death, 
In  counterview  within  the  gates,  that  now 
Stood  open  wide,  belching  outrageous  flame 
Far  into  Chaos,  since  the  fiend  pass'd  through, 
Sin  opening,  who  thus  now  to  Death  began  : 

"  O  son,  why  sit  we  here  each  other  viewing 
Idty,  while  Satan  our  great  author  thrives  236 

In  other  worlds,  and  happier  seat  provides 
For  us  his  offspring  dear  ?     It  cannot  be 
But  that  success  attends  him ;  if  mishap, 
Ere  this  he  had  returned,  with  fury  driven 
By  his  avengers,  since  no  place  like  this 
Can  fit  his  punishment,  or  their  revenge. 
Methinks  I  feel  new  strength  within  me  rise, 
Wings  growing,  and  dominion  given  me  large 
Beyond  this  deep  ;  whatever  draws  me  on, 
Or  sympathy,  or  some  connatural  force, 
Powerful  at  greatest  distance  to  unite  247 

With  secret  amity  things  of  like  kind 
By  secretest  conveyance.     Thou,  my  shade 
Inseparable,  must  with  ine  along : 
For  Death  from  Sin  no  power  can  separate. 
But  lest  the  difficulty  of  passing  back 
Stay  his  return  perhaps  over  this  gulf 
Impassable,  impervious,  let  us  try 
Adventurous  work,  yet  to  thy  power  and  mine 
Not  unagreeable,  to  found  a  path 
Over  this  main  from  Hell  to  that  new  world 
Where  Satan  now  prevails,  a  monument  258 

Of  merit  high  to  all  the  infernal  host, 
Easing  their  passage  hence,  for  intercourse 
Or  transmigration,  as  their  lot  shall  lead. 
Nor  can  I  miss  the  way,  so  strongly  drawn 
By  this  new-felt  attraction  and  instinct." 

Whom  thus  the  meagre  shadow  answer'd  soon . 
"  Go  whither  fate  and  inclination  strong 
Lead  thee ;  I  shall  not  lag  behind,  nor  err 
The  way,  thou  leading ;  such  a  scent  I  draw 
Of  carnage,  prey  innumerable,  and  taste 
The  savor  of  death  from  all  things  there  that  live  i     269 


244  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [F.  x 

Nor  shall  I  to  the  work  thou  enterprisest 
Be  wanting,  but  afford  thee  equal  aid." 

So  saying,  with  delight  he  snuff'd  the  smell 
Of  mortal  change  on  earth.    As  when  a  flock 
Of  ravenous  fowl,  though  many  a  league  remote, 
Against  the  day  of  battle,  to  a  field, 
Where  armies  He  encamp'd,  come  flying,  lured 
With  scent  of  living  carcasses  design'd 
For  death,  the  following  day,  in  bloody  fight : 
So  scented  the  grim  feature,  and  upturned  279 

His  nostril  wide  into  the  murky  air, 
Sagacious  of  his  quarry  from  so  far. 
Then  both  from  out  Hell-gates  into  the  waste 
Wide  anarchy  of  Chaos  damp  and  dark 
Flew  diverse,  and  with  power  (their  power  was  great) 
Hovering  upon  the  waters,  what  they  met, 
Solid  or  slimy,  as  in  raging  sea 
Tost  up  and  down  together,  crowded  drove 
From  each  side  shoaling  towards  the  mouth  of  Hell : 
As  when  two  polar  winds,  blowing  adverse 
Upon  the  Cronian  sea,  together  drive  290 

Mountains  of  ice,  that  stop  the  imagined  way 
Beyond  Petsora  eastward,  to  the  rich 
Cathaian  coast.    The  aggregated  soil 
Death  with  his  mace  petrific,  cold  and  dry, 
As  with  a  trident  smote,  and  fix'd  as  firm 
As  Delos  floating  once ;  the  rest  his  look 
Bound  with  Gorgonian  rigor  not  to  move ; 
And  with  asphaltic  slime,  broad  as  the  gate, 
Deep  to  the  roots  of  Hell  the  gathered  beach 
They  fastened,  and  the  mole  immense  wrought  on 
Over  the  foaming  deep  high  arch'd,  a  bridge  301 

Of  length  prodigious,  joining  to  the  wall 
Immovable  of  this  now  fenceless  world 
Forfeit  to  Death ;  from  hence  a  passage  broad, 
Smooth,  easy,  inoffensive,  down  to  Hell. 
So,  if  great  things  to  small  may  be  compared, 
Xerxes,  the  liberty  of  Greece  to  yoke, 
From  Susa  his  Memnonian  palace  high 
Came  to  the  sea,  and  over  Hellespont 
Bridging  his  way,  Europe  with  Asia  join'd, 
•  And  scourged  with  many  a  stroke  the  indignant  .waves. 
Now  had  they  brought  the  work  by  wondrous  art     312 


B    X.J  PARADISE    LOST.  245 

Pontifical,  a  ridge  of  pendent  rock, 

Over  the  vex'd  abyss,  following  the  track 

Of  Satan  to  the  self-same  place  where  he 

First  lighted  from  his  wing,  and  landed  safe 

From  out  of  Chaos,  to  the  outside  hare 

Of  this  round  world :  with  pins  of  adamant 

And  chains  they  made  all  fast,  too  fast  they  made 

And  durable ;  and  now  in  little  space 

The  confines  met  of  empyrean  Heaven 

And  of  this  world,  and  on  the  left  hand  Hell  322 

With  long  reach  interposed ;  three  several  ways 

In  sight,  to  each  of  these  three  places  led. 

And  now  their  way  to  earth  they  had  descried, 

To  Paradise  first  tending,  when  behold 

Satan  in  likeness  of  an  angel  bright 

Betwixt  the  Centaur  and  the  Scorpion  steering 

His  zenith,  while  the  sun  in  Aries  rose : 

Disguised  he  came,  but  those  his  children  dear 

Their  parent  soon  discern'd,  though  in  disguise. 

He,  after  Eve  seduced,  unminded  slunk 

Into  the  wood  fast  by,  and  changing  shape  333 

To  observe  the  sequel,  saw  his  guileful  act 

By  Eve,  though  all  unweeting,  seconded 

Upon  her  husband,  saw  their  shame  that  sought 

Yain  covertures ;  but  when  he  saw  descend 

The  Son  of  God  to  judge  them,  terrified 

He  fled,  not  hoping  to  escape,  but  shun 

The  present,  fearing  guilty  what  his  wrath 

Might  suddenly  inflict ;  that  past,  returned 

By  night,  and  listening  where  the  hapless  pair 

Sat  in  their  sad  discourse,  and  various  plaint, 

Thence  gather'd  his  own  doom,  which  understood      344 

Not  instant,  but  of  future  time,  with  joy 

And  tidings  fraught,  to  Hell  he  now  returned, 

And  at  the  brink  of  Chaos,  near  the  foot 

Of  this  new  wondrous  pontifice,  unhoped 

Met  who  to  meet  him  came,  his  offspring  dear. 

Great  joy  was  at  their  meeting,  and  at  sight 

Of  that  stupendous  bridge  his  joy  increased. 

Long  he  admiring  stood,  till  Sin,  his  fair 

Enchanting  daughter,  thus  the  silence  broke : 

"  O  parent,  these  are  thy  magnific  deeds, 
Thy  trophies,  which  thou  view'st  as  not  thine  own ;  355 


246  MILTO^S    POETICAL   WORKS.  [B.  X. 

Thou  art  their  author  and  prime  architect  • 

For  I  no  sooner  in  my  heart  divined, 

My  heart,  which  by  a  secret  harmony 

Still  moves  with  thine,  join'd  in  connection  sweet, 

That  thou  on  earth  hadst  prospered,  which  thy  looks 

Now  also  evidence,  but  straight  I  felt, 

Though  distant  from  thee  worlds  between,  yet  felt 

That  I  must  after  thee  with  this  thy  son, 

Such  fatal  consequence  unites  us  three : 

Hell  could  no  longer  hold  us  in  her  bounds,  36£ 

Nor  this  unvoyageable  gulf  obscure 

Detain  from  following  thy  illustrious  track. 

Thou  hast  achieved  our  liberty,  confined 

Within  Hell-gates  till  now,  thou  us  impower'd 

To  fortify  thus  far,  and  overlay 

With  this  portentous  bridge  the  dark  ab}^ss. 

Thine  now  is  all  this  world ;  thy  virtue  hath  won 

What  thy  hands  builded  not,  thy  wisdom  gain'd 

With  odds  what  war  hath  lost,  and  fully  avenged 

Our  foil  in  Heaven;  here  thou  shalt  monarch  reign, 

There  didst  not;  there  let  him  still  victor  sway,          37fi 

As  battle  hath  adjudged,  from  this  new  world 

Retiring,  by  his  own  doom  alienated, 

And  henceforth  monarchy  with  thee  divide 

Of  all  things  parted  by  the  empyreal  bounds, 

His  quadrature,  from  thy  orbicular  world, 

Or  try  thee  now  more  dangerous  to  his  throne." 

Whom  thus  the  prince  of  darkness  answer'd  glad : 
"  Fair  daughter,  and  thou  son  and  grandchild  both, 
High  proof  ye  now  have  given  to  be  the  race 
Of  Satan,  (for  I  glory  in  the  name, 
Antagonist  of  Heaven's  almighty  King;)  387 

Amply  have  merited  of  me,  of  all 
The  infernal  empire,  that  so  near  Heaven's  door 
Triumphal  with  triumphal  act  have  met, 
Mine  with  this  glorious  work,  and  made  one  realm 
Hell  and  this  world,  one  realm,  one  continent 
Of  easy  thoroughfare.     Therefore  while  I 
Descend  through  darkness,  on  your  road  with  ease, 
To  my  associate  powers,  them  to  acquaint 
With  these  successes,  and  with  them  rejoice, 
You  two  this  way,  among  these  numerous  orbs, 
All  yours,  right  down  to  Paradise-descend ;  308 


B.  X.]  PARADISE    LOST.  247 

There  dwell  and  reign  in  bliss,  thence  on  the  earth 

Dominion  exercise,  and  in  the  air, 

Chiefly  on  man,  sole  lord  of  all  declared ; 

Him  first  make  sure  your  thrall,  and  lastly  kill. 

My  substitutes  I  send  ye,  and  create 

Plenipotent  on  earth,  of  matchless  might 

Issuing  from  me :  on  your  joint  vigor  now 

My  hold  of  this  new  kingdom  all  depends, 

Through  Sia  to  Death  exposed  by  my  exploit 

If  your  joint  power  prevail,  the  aifairs  of  HeU  408 

No  detriment  need  fear ;  go,  and  be  strong." 

So  saying,  he  dismiss'd  them ;  they  with  speed 
Their  course  through  thickest  constellations  held, 
Spreading  their  bane;  the  blasted  stars  look'd  wan, 
And  planets,  planet-struck,  real  eclipse 
Then  suffered.    The  other  way  Satan  went  down 
The  causey  to  Hell-gate ;  oa  either  side 
Disparted  Chaos,  over  built,  exclaim'd, 
And  with  rebounding  surge  the  bars  assail'd, 
That  scorn'd  his  indignation :  through  the  gate, 
Wide  open  and  unguarded,  Satan  pass'd,  419 

And  all  about  found  desolate ;  for  those 
Appointed  to  sit  there  had  left  their  charge, 
Flown  to  the  upper  world ;  the  rest  were  all 
Far  to  the  inland  retired,  about  the  walls 
Of  Pandemonium,  city  and  proud  seat 
Of  Lucifer,  so  by  allusion  call'd, 
Of  that  bright  star  to  Satan  paragon'd. 
There  kept  their  watch  the  legions,  while  the  grand 
In  council  sat,  solicitous  what  chance 
Might  intercept  their  emperor  sent ;  so  he, 
Departing,  gave  command,  and  they  observed.  450 

As  when  the  Tartar  from  his  Russian  foe, 
By  Astracan,  over  the  snowy  plains 
Retires ;  or  Bactrian  Sophi,  from  the  horns 
Of  Turkish  crescent,  leaves  all  waste  beyond 
The  realm  of  Aladule,  in  his  retreat 
To  Tauris  or  Casbeen :   so  these,  the  late 
Heaven-banish'd  host,  left  desert  utmost  Hell 
Many  a  dark  league,  reduced  in  careful  watch 
Round  their  metropolis,  and  now  expecting 
Each  hour  their  great  adventurer  from  the  searcn 
Of  foreign  worlds.    He  through  the  midst,  umnark'd,  447 


£48  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  TB.  x 

In  show  plebeian  angel  militant 

Of  lowest  order,  pass'd ;  and  from  the  door 

Of  that  Plutonian  hall,  invisible, 

Ascended  his  high  throne,  which,  under  state 

Of  richest  texture  spread,'  at  the  upper  end 

Was  placed  in  regal  lustre.    Down  a  while 

He  sat,  and  round  about  him  saw  unseen : 

At  last,  as  from  a  cloud,  his  fulgent  head 

And  shape  star-bright  appeared,  or  brighter,  clad 

With  what  permissive  glory  since  his  fall  451 

Was  left  him,  or  false  glitter.    All  amazed 

At  that  so  sudden  blaze,  the  Stygian  throng 

Bent  their  aspect,  and  whom  they  wish'd  beheld, 

Their  mighty  chief  returned :  loud  was  the  acclaim ; 

Forth  rush'd  in  haste  the  great  consulting  peers, 

Kaised  from  their  dark  divan,  and  with  like  joy 

Congratulant  approach'd  him,  who  with  hand 

Silence,  and  with  these  words  attention,  won : 

"Thrones,  dominations,  princedoms,  virtues,  powers, 
For  in  possession  such,  not  only  of  right, 
I  call  ye  and  declare  ye  now ;  return'd,  462 

Successful  beyond  hope,  to  lead  ye  forth 
Triumphant  out  of  this  infernal  pit 
Abominable,  accursed,  the  house  of  woe, 
And  dungeon  of  our  tyrant :  now  possess, 
As  lords,  a  spacious  world,  to  our  native  Heaven 
Little  inferior,  by  my  adventure  hard 
With  peril  great  achieved.    Long  were  to  tell 
What  I  have  done,  what  suffer'd,  with  what  pain 
Voyaged  the  unreal,  vast,  unbounded  deep 
Of  horrible  confusion,  over  which, 
By  Sin  and  Death,  a  broad  way  now  is  paved  473 

To  expedite  your  glorious  march ;  but  I 
ToiPd  out  my  uncouth  passage,  forced  to  ride 
The  untractable  abyss,  plunged  in  the  womb 
Of  unoriginal  Night  and  Chaos  wild, 
That,  jealous  of  their  secrets,  fiercely  opposed 
My  journey  strange,  with  clamorous  uproar 
Protesting  Fate  supreme ;  thence  how  I  found 
The  new-created  world,  which  fame  in  Heaven 
Long  had  foretold,  a  fabric  wonderful, 
Of  absolute  perfection,  therein  man 
Placed  in  a  Paradise,  by  our  exile  484 


0.  X.I  PARADISE    LOST.  249 

Made  happy.    Him  by  fraud  I  have  seduced 
From  his  Creator,  and,  the  more  to  increase 
,  Your  wonder,  with  an  apple ;  He  thereat 
Offended,  (worth  your  laughter,)  hath  given  up 
Both  his  beloved  man  and  all  his  world, 
To  Sin  and  Death  a  prey,  and  so  to  us, 
Without  our  hazard,  labor,  or  alarm, 
To  range  in,  and  to  dwell,  and  over  man 
To  rule,  as  over  all  he  should  have  ruled. 
True  is,  me  also  he  hath  judged,  or  rather  404 

Me  not,  but  the  brute  serpent  in  whose  shape 
Man  I  deceived :  that  which  to  me  belongs 
Is  enmity,  which  he  will  put  between 
Me  and  mankind ;  I  am  to  bruise  his  heel ; 
His  seed  (when  is  not  set)  shall  bruise  my  hea<L 
A  world  who  would  not  purchase  with  a  bruise, 
Or  much  more  grievous  pain  ?     Ye  have  the  account 
Of  my  performance :  what  remains,  ye  gods, 
But  up  and  enter  now  into  full  bliss  ?" 

So  having  said,  a  while  he  stood,  expecting 
Their  universal  shout  and  high  applause  505 

To  fill  his  ear ;  when,  contrary,  he  hears 
On  all  sides,  from  innumerable  tongues, 
A  dismal  universal  hiss,  the  sound 
Of  public  scorn ;  he  wonder'd,  but  not  long 
Had  leisure,  wondering  at  himself  now  more; 
His  visage  drawn  he  felt  to  sharp  and  spare, 
His  arms  clung  to  his  ribs;  his  legs  intwining 
Each  other,  till  supplanted  down  he  fell 
A  monstrous  serpent  on  his  belly  prone, 
Reluctant,  but  in  vain ;  a  greater  power 
Xow  ruled  him,  panish'd  in  the  shape  he  sinn'd,         516 
According  to  his  doom.    He  would  have  spoke, 
But  hiss  for  hiss  returned  with  forked  tongue 
To  forked  tongue,  for  now  were  all  transform'd 
Alike,  to  serpents  all,  as  accessories 
To  his  bold  riot:  dreadful  was  the  din 
Of  hissing  through  the  hall,  thick  swarming  now 
With  complicated  monsters  head  and  tail, 
Scorpion,  and  asp,  and  amphisbsena  dire, 
Cerastes  horn'd,  hydrus,  and  elops  drear, 
And  dipsas,  (not  so  thick  swarm'd  once  the  soil 
Bedropt  with  blood  of  Gorgon,  or  the  isle  527 


250  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  \B.  x, 

Ophiusa ;)  but  still  greatest  he  the  midst, 

Now  dragon  grown,  larger  than  whom  the  sun 

Engender'd  in  the  Pythian  vale  on  slime, 

Huge  Python,  and  his  power  no  less  he  seem'd 

Above  the  rest  still  to  retain.     They  all 

Him  followed,  issuing  forth  to  the  open  field, 

Where  all  yet  left  of  that  revolted  rout, 

Heaven-falPn,  in  station  stood  or  just  array, 

Sublime  with  expectation  when  to  see 

In  triumph  issuing  forth  their  glorious  chief:  537 

They  saw,  but  other  sight  instead,  a  crowd 

Of  ugly  serpents  :  horror  on  them  fell, 

And  horrid  sympathy  ;  for  what  they  saw 

They  felt  themselves  now  changing;  down  their  arms, 

Down  fell  both  spear  and  shield,  down  they  as  fast, 

And  the  dire  hiss  renew'd,  and  the  dire  form 

Catch'd  by  contagion,  like  in  punishment 

As  in  their  crime.     Thus  was  the  applause  they  meant 

Turn'd  to  exploding  hiss,  triumph  to  shame, 

Cast  on  themselves  from  their  own  mouths.    There  stood 

A  grove  hard  by,  sprung  up  with  this  their  change,   548 

His  will  who  reigns  above,  to  aggravate 

Their  penance,  laden  with  fair  fruit,  like  that 

Which  grew  in  Paradise,  the  bait  of  Eve 

Used  by  the  tempter :  on  that  prospect  strange 

Their  earnest  eyes  they  fix'd,  imagining 

For  one  forbidden  tree  a  multitude 

£Tow  risen,  to  work  them  further  woe  or  shame  ; 

Yet  parch'd  with  scalding  thirst  and  hunger  fierce, 

Though  to  delude  them  sent,  could  not  abstain, 

But  on  they  roll'd  in  heaps,  and  up  the  trees 

Climbing,  sat  thicker  than  the  snaky  locks  559 

That  curl'd  Megaera :  greedily  they  pluck'd 

The  fruitage  fair  to  sight,  like  that  which  grew 

Near  that  bituminous  lake  where  Sodom  flamed ; 

This  more  delusive,  not  the  touch,  but  taste 

Deceived ;  they  fondly  thinking  to  allay 

Their  appetite  with  gust,  instead  of  fruit 

Chew'd  bitter  ashes,  which  the  offended  taste 

With  spattering  noise  rejected :  oft  they  assay 'd, 

Hunger  and  thirst  constraining ;  drugg'd  as  oft, 

With  hatefullest  disrelish  writhed  their  jaws 

With  soot  and  cinders  fill'd  ;  so  oft  they  fell  570 


R.  X.]  PARADISE    LOST.  251 

Into  the  same  illusion,  not  as  man  [plagued 

Whom  they  triumph'd  once  lapsed.     Thus  were  they 

And  worn  with  famine,  long  and  ceaseless  hiss, 

Till  their  lost  shape,  permitted,  they  resumed ; 

Yearly  enjoin'd,  some  say,  to  undergo 

This  annual  humbling  certain  numbered  days, 

To  dash  their  pride,  and  joy  for  man  seduced. 

However,  some  tradition  they  dispersed 

Among  the  heathen  of  their  purchase  got, 

And  fabled  how  the  serpent,  whom  they  call'd  58C 

Ophion,  with  Eurynome,  the  wide 

Encroaching  Eve  perhaps,  had  first  the  rule 

Of  high  Olympus,  thence  by  Saturn  driven 

And  Ops,  ero  yet  Dictasan  Jove  was  born. 

Meanwhile  in  Paradise  the  hellish  pan- 
Too  soon  arrived ;  Sin  there  in  power  before, 
Once  actual,  now  in  body,  and  to  dwell 
Habitual  habitant ;  behind  her  Death 
Close  following  pace  for  pace,  not  mounted  yet 
On  his  pale  horse:  to  whom  Sin  thus  began  : 

"  Second  of  Satan  sprung,  all-conquering  Death,      591 
What  think'st  thoti  of  our  empire  now,  though  earn'd 
With  travel  difficult,  not  better  far 
Than  still  at  Hell's  dark  threshold  to  have  sat  watch, 
Unnamed,  undreaded,  and  thyself  half  starved  ?" 

Whom  thus  the  Sin-born  monster  answer'd  soon: 
"To  me,  who  with  eternal  famine  pine, 
Alike  is  Hell,  or  Paradise,  or  Heaven ; 
There  best,  where  most  with  ravine  I  may  meet : 
Which  here,  though  plenteous,  all  too  little  seems 
To  stuff  this  maw,  this  vast  unhide-bound  corpse." 

To  whom  the  incestuous  mother  thus  replied :         602 
"  Thou  therefore  on  these  herbs,  and  fruits,  and  flowers, 
Feed  first,  on  each  beast  next,  and-  fish,  and  fowl, 
No  homely  morsels ;  and  whatever  thing 
The  scythe  of  Time  mows  down,,  devour  unspared ; 
Till  I,  in  man  residing,  through  the  race, 
His  thoughts,  his  looks,  words,  actions,  all  infect, 
And  season  him  thy  last  and  sweetest  prey." 

This  said,  they  both  betook  them  several  ways, 
Both  to  destroy,  or  unimmortal  make 
All  kinds,  and  for  destruction  to  mature 
Sooner  or  later ;  which  the  Almighty  seeing,  613 


252  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS,  fa.  x 

From  his  transcendent  seat  the  saints  amongT 
To  those  bright  orders  utter'd  thus  his  voice : 

"  See  with  what  heat  these  dogs  of  Hell  ad  van  or 
To  waste  and  havoc  yonder  world,  which  I 
So  fair  and  good  created,  and  had  still 
Kept  in  that  state,  had  not  the  folly  of  man 
Let  in  these  wasteful  furies,  who  impute 
Folly  to  me ;  so  doth  the  prince  of  Hell 
And  his  adherents,  that  with  so  much  ease 
I  suffer  them  to  enter  and  possess  62 £ 

A  place  so  heavenly ;  and  conniving  seem 
To  gratify  my  scornful  enemies, 
That  laugh,  as  if,  transported  with  some  fit 
Of  passion,  I  to  them  had  quitted  all, 
At  random  yielded  up  to  their  misrule ; 
And  know  not  that  I  calFd  and  drew  them  thiliirr, 
My  hell-hounds,  to  lick  up  the  draff  and  filth 
"Which  man's  polluting  sin  with  taint  hath  shed 
On  what  was  pure,  till,  cramm'd  and  gorged,  nigh  burst 
With  suck'd  and  glutted  offal,  at  one  sling 
Of  thy  victorious  arm,  well-pleasing  Son,  634 

Both  Sin,  and  Death,  and  yawning  grave,  at  last, 
Through  Chaos  hurl'd,  obstruct  the  mouth  of  Hell 
Forever,  and  seal  up  his  ravenous  jaws. 
Then  Heaven  and  earth,  renew'd,  shall  be  made  pure 
To  sanctity  that  shall  receive  no  stain : 
Till  then  the  curse  pronounced  on  both  precedes." 

He  ended,  and  the  heavenly  audience  loud 
Sung  hallelujah,  as  the  sound  of  seas, 
Through  multitude  that  sung :  "  Just  are  thy  ways, 
Kighteous  are  thy  decrees  on  all  thy  works ; 
Who  can  extenuate  thee ?"    Next,  to  the  Son,  645 

u  Destined  restorer  of  mankind,  by  whom 
"New  Heaven  and  earth  shall  to  the  ages  rise, 
Or  down  from  Heaven  descend."  Such  was  their  song, 
While  the  Creator,  calling  forth  by  name 
His  mighty  angels,  gave  them  several  charge, 
As  sorted  best  with  present  things.     The  sun 
Had  first  his  precept  so  to  move,  so  shine, 
As  might  affect  the  earth  with  cold  and  heat 
Scarce  tolerable ;  and  from  the  north  to  call 
Decrepit  winter  ;  from  the  south  to  bring 
Solstitial  summer's  heat.     To  the  blank  moon  65*' 


B.  X.I  PARADISE   LOST.  253 

Her  off  ce  they  prescribed :  to  the  other  five 
Their  \  lanetary  motions  and  aspects, 
In  sextile,  square,  and  trine,  and  opposite 
Of  noxious  efficacy ;  and  when  to  join 
In  synod  unbenign :  and  taught  the  fix'd 
Their  influence  malignant  when  to  shower, 
Which  of  them,  rising  with,  the  sun,  or  falling, 
Should  prove  tempestuous.    To  the  winds  they  set 
Their  corners,  when  with  bluster  to  confound 
Sea,  air,  and  shore;  the  thunder  when  to  roll  066 

With  terror  through  the  dark  aerial  halL 
Some  say  he  bid  his  angels  turn  askance 
The  poles  of  earth  twice  ten  degrees  and  more 
From  the  sun's  axle ;  they  with  labor  push'd 
Oblique  the  centric  globe :  some  say  the  sun 
Was  bid  turn  reins  from  the  equinoctial  road 
Like  distant  breadth  to  Taurus  with  the  seven 
Atlantic  Sisters,  and  the  Spartan  Twins 
Up  to  the  Tropic  Crab ;  thence  down  amain 
By  Leo  and  the  Virgin  and  the  Scales, 
As  deep  as  Capricorn,  to  bring  in  change  677 

Of  seasons  to  each  clime ;  else  had  the  spring 
Perpetual  smiled  on  earth  with  verdant  flowers, 
Equal  in  days  and  nights,  except  to  those 
Beyond  the  polar  circles ;  to  them  day 
Had  unbenighted  shone,  while  the  low  sun, 
To  recompense  his  distance,  in  their  sight 
Had  rounded  still  the  horizon,  and  not  known 
Or  east  or  west,  which  had  forbid  the  snow 
From  cold  Estotiland,  and  south  as  far 
Beneath  Magellan.    At  that  tasted  fruit 
The  sun,  as  from  Thyestean  banquet,  turnM  688 

His  course  intended ;  else  how  had  the  world 
Inhabited,  though  sinless,  more  than  now, 
Avoided  pinching  cold  and  scorching  heat? 
These  changes  in  the  heavens,  though  slow,  produced 
Like  change  on  sea  and  land ;  sideral  blast, 
Yap  or,  and  mist,  and  exhalation  hot, 
Corrupt  and  pestilent.    Now  from  the  north 
Of  Norumbega,  and  the  Samoed  shore, 
Bursting  their  brazen  dungeon,  arni'd  with  ice, 
And  snow  and  hail,  and  stormy  gust  and  flaw, 
Boreas  and  Caecias,  and  Argestes  loud,  699 

22 


254  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  x. 

And  Thrascias,  rend  the  woods,  ana  seas  upturn , 

With  adverse  blast  upturns  them  from  the  south 

Notus  and  Afer,  black  with  thunderous  clouds 

From  Serraliona ;  thwart  of  these  as  fierce 

Forth  rush  the  Levant  and  the  Ponent  winds, 

Eurus  and  Zephyr,  with  their  lateral  noise, 

Sirocco  and  Libecchio.     Thus  began 

Outrage  from  lifeless  things ;  but  Discord  first, 

Daughter  of  Sin,  among  the  irrational, 

Death  introduced  through  fierce  antipathy :  70 'J 

Beast  now  with  beast  'gan  war,  and  fowl  with  fowl, 

And  fish  with  fish  ;  to  graze  the  herb  all  leaving, 

Devour'd  each  other;  nor  stood  much  in  awe 

Of  man,  but  fled  him,  or  with  countenance  grim 

Glared  on  him  passing.     These  were  from  without 

The  growing  miseries,  which  Adam  saw 

Already  in  part,  though  hid  in  gloomiest  shade, 

To  sorrow  abandoned ;  but  worst  felt  within, 

And  in  a  troubled  sea  of  passion  tost, 

Thus  to  disburden  sought  with  sad  complaint : 

"  0  miserable  of  happy !  is  this  the  end  720 

Of  this  new  glorious  world,  and  me  so  late 
The  glory  of  that  glory,  who  now  become 
Accursed  of  blessed  ?    Hide  me  from  the  face 
Of  God,  whom  to  behold  was  then  my  height 
Of  happiness !     Yet  well,  if  here  would  end 
The  misery ;  I  deserved  it,  and  would  bear 
My  own  deservings :  but  this  will  not  serve ; 
All  that  I  eat  or  drink,  or  shall  beget, 
Is  propagated  curse.    O  voice  once  heard 
Delightfully,  4  Increase  and  multiply,' 
Now  death  to  hear !  for  what  can  I  increase  781 

Or  multiply,  but  curses  on  my  head? 
Who  of  all  ages  to  succeed,  but,  feeling 
The  evil  on  him  brought  by  me,  will  curse 
My  head  ?     4  111  fare  our  ancestor  impure, 
For  this  we  may  thank  Adam ;'  but  his  thanks 
Shall  be  the  execration ;  so  besides 
Mine  own  that  bide  upon  me,  all  from  me 
Shall  with  a  fierce  reflux  on  me  rebound, 
On  me,  as  on  their  natural  centre,  light 
Heavy,  though  in  their  place.     O  fleeting  joys 
Of  Paradise,  dear  bought  with  lasting  woes !  742 


B.  X.J  PARADISE   LOST.  255 

Did  I  request  thee,  Maker,  from  my  clay 

To  mould  me  man  ?  did  I  solicit  thee 

From  darkness  to  promote  me,  or  here  place 

In  this  delicious  garden  ?    As  my  will 

Concurred  not  to  my  being,  it  were  but  right 

And  equal  to  reduce  me  to  my  dust, 

Desirous  to  resign  and  render  back 

All  I  received,  unable  to  perform 

Thy  terms  too  hard,  by  which  I  was  to  hold 

The  good  I  sought  not.    To  the  loss  of  that,  752 

Sufficient  penalty,  why  hast  thou  added 

The  sense  of  endless  woes  ?    Inexplicable 

Thy  justice  seems :  yet,  to  say  truth,  too  late 

I  thus  contest ;  then  should  have  been  refused 

Those  terms  whatever,  when  they  were  proposed : 

Thou  didst  accept  them :  wilt  thou  enjoy  the  good, 

Then  cavil  the  conditions  ?  and  though  God 

Made  thee  without  thy  leave,  what  if  thy  son 

Prove  disobedient,  and  reproved,  retort, 

4  Wherefore  didst  thou  beget  me  ?     I  sought  it  not :' 

"Wouldst  thou  admit  for  his  contempt  of  thee  763 

That  proud  excuse  ?   Yet  him,  not  thy  election, 

But  natural  necessity  begot. 

God  made  thee  of  choice  his  own,  and  of  his  own 

To  serve  him :  thy  reward  was  of  his  grace, 

Thy  punishment  then  justly  is  at  his  will. 

Be  it  so,  for  I  submit ;  his  doom  is  fair, 

That  dust  I  am,  and  shall  to  dust  return. 

O  welcome  hour  whenever !  why  delays 

His  hand  to  execute  what  his  decree 

Fix'd  on  this  day  ?  why  do  I  overlive  ? 

"Why  am  I  mock'd  with  death,  and  lengthen'd  out      774 

To  deathless  pain  ?    How  gladly  would  I  meet 

Mortality  my  sentence,  and  be  earth 

Insensible !  how  glad  would  lay  me  down 

As  in  my  mother's  lap  !  there  I  should  rest 

And  sleep  secure ;  his  dreadful  voice  no  more 

Would  thunder  in  my  ears ;  no  fear  of  worse 

To  me  and  to  my  offspring  would  torment  me 

With  cruel  expectation.     Yet  one  doubt 

Pursues  me  still,  lest  all  I  cannot  die. 

Lest  that  pure  breath  of  life,  the  spirit  of  man 

Which  God  inspired,  cannot  together  perish  785 


256  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  I'D.  x. 

"With  this  corporeal  clod ;  then  in  the  grave, 

Or  in  some  other  dismal  place,  who  knows 

But  I  shall  die  a  living  death  ?    O  thought 

Horrid,  if  true !    Yet  why  ?    It  was  but  breath 

Of  life  that  sinn'd ;  what  dies  but  what  had  life 

And  sin  ?    The  body  properly  hath  neither. 

All  of  me  then  shall  die :  let  this  appease 

The  doubt,  since  human  reach  no  further  knows. 

For  though  the  Lord  of  all  be  infinite, 

Is  his  wrath  also  ?     Beit;  man  is  not  so,  705 

But  mortal  doom'd.     How  can  he  exercise 

Wrath  without  end  on  man  whom  death  must  end  ? 

Can  he  make  deathless  death  ?  That  were  to  make 

Strange  contradiction,  which  to  God  himself 

Impossible  is  held,  as  argument 

Of  weakness,  not  of  power.     Will  he  draw  out, 

For  anger's  sake,  finite  to  infinite 

In  punish'd  man,  to  satisfy  his  rigor 

Satisfied  never  ?    That  were  to  extend 

His  sentence  beyond  dust  and  nature's  law, 

By  which  all  causes  else  according  still  806 

To  the  reception  of  their  matter  act, 

Not  to  the  extent  of  their  own  sphere.    But  say 

That  death  be  not  one  stroke,  as  I  supposed, 

Bereaving  sense,  but  endless  misery 

From  this  day  onward,  which  I  feel  begun 

Both  in  me  and  without  me,  and  so  last 

To  perpetuity ;  ay  me,  that  fear 

Comes  thundering  back  with  dreadful  revolution 

On  my  defenceless  head;  both  Death  and  I 

Am  found  eternal,  and  incorporate  both  : 

Nor  I  on  my  part  single,  in  me  all  817 

Posterity  stands  cursed  :  fair  patrimony 

That  I  must  leave  ye,  sons.    O  were  I  able 

To  waste  it  all  myself,  and  leave  ye  none ! 

So  disinherited,  how  would  ye  bless 

Me,  now  your  curse !     Ah,  why  should  all  mankind 

For  one  man's  fault  thus  guiltless  be  condemn'd, 

If  guiltless  ?    But  from  me  what  can  proceed, 

But  all  corrupt,  both  mind  and  will  depraved, 

Not  to  do  only,  but  to  will  the  same 

With  me  ?     How  can  they  then  acquitted  stand 

In  sight  of  God?     Him,  after  all  disputes,  828 


B.  X.j  PARADISE    LOST.  257 

Forced  I  absolve :  all  my  evasions  vain ; 

And  reasonings,  though  through  mazes,  lead  me  still 

But  to  my  own  conviction  :  first  and  last 

On  me,  me  only,  as  the  source  and  spring 

Of  all  corruption,  all  the  blame  lights  due ; 

So  might  the  wrath.    Fond  wish !  couldst  thou  support 

That  burden,  heavier  than  the  earth  to  bear. 

Than  all  the  world  much  heavier,  though  divided 

With  that  bad  woman  ?    Thus  what  thou  desir'st 

And  what  thou  fear'st,  alike  destroys  all  hope  838 

Of  refuge,  and  concludes  thee  miserable 

Beyond  all  past  example  and  future, 

To  Satan  only  like  both  crime  and  doom. 

0  conscience,  into  what  abyss  of  fears 

And  horrors  hast  thou  driven  me,  out  of  which 

1  find  no  way,  from  deep  to  deeper  plunged!" 

Thus  Adam  to  himself  lamented  loud 
Through  the  still  night,  not  now,  as  ere  man  fell, 
"Wholesome  and  cool  and  mild,  but  with  black  air 
Accompanied,  with  damps  and  dreadful  gloom, 
Which  to  his  evil  conscience  represented  849 

All  things  with  double  terror :  on  the  ground 
Outstretched  he  lay,  on  the  cold  ground,  and  oft  • 
Cursed  his  creation,  death  as  oft  accused 
Of  tardy  execution,  since  denounced 
The  day  of  his  offence.     "  Why  comes  not  death," 
Said  he,  "  with  one  thrice  acceptable  stroke 
To  end  me?    Shall  truth  fail  to  keep  her  word, 
Justice  divine  not  hasten  to  be  just  ? 
But  death  comes  not  at  call,  justice  divine 
Mends  not  her  slowest  pace  for  prayers  or  cries. 
O  woods,  0  fountains,  hillocks,  dales,  and  bowers,      860 
With  other  echo  late  I  taught  your  shades 
To  answer,  and  resound  far  other  song." 

Whom  thus  afflicted  when  sad  Eve  beheld, 
Desolate  where  she  sat,  approaching  nigh, 
Soft  words  to  his  fierce  passion  she  assay'd : 
But  her,  with  stern  regard,  he  thus  repell'd : 

"  Out  of  my  sight,  thou  serpent !  that  name  best 
Befits  thee  with  him  leagued,  thyself  as  false 
And  hateful ;  nothing  wants,  but  that  thy  shape, 
Like  his,  and  color  serpentine,  may  show 
Thy  inward  fraud,  to  warn  all  creatures  from  thee      871 


258  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  x. 

Henceforth ;  lest  that  too  heavenly  form,  pretended 

To  hellish  falsehood,  snare  them.    But  for  thee 

I  had  persisted  happy,  had  not  thy  pride 

And  wandering  vanity,  when  least  was  safe, 

Rejected  my  forewarning,  and  disdained 

Not  to  be  trusted,  longing  to  be  seen, 

Though  by  the  devil  himself,  him  overweening 

To  overreach,  but  with  the  serpent  meeting 

Fool'd  and  beguiled ;  by  him  thou,  I  by  thee, 

To  trust  thee  from  my  side,  imagined  wise,  881 

Constant,  mature,  proof  against  all  assaults, 

And  understood  not  all  was  but  a  show 

Eather  than  solid  virtue ;  all  but  a  rib, 

Crooked  by  nature,  bent,  as  now  appears, 

More  to  the  part  sinister,  from  me  drawn, 

Well  if  thrown  out,  as  supernumerary 

To  my  just  number  found.     O,  why  did  God, 

Creator  wise,  that  peopled  highest  Heaven 

With  spirits  masculine,  create  at  last 

This  novelty  on  earth,  this  fair  defect 

Of  nature,  and  not  fill  the  world  at  once  892 

With  men  as  angels,  without  feminine^ 

Or  find  some  other  way  to  generate 

Mankind  ?    This  mischief  had  not  then  befallen, 

And  more  that  shall  befall,  innumerable 

Disturbances  on  earth  through  female  snares, 

And  strait  conjunction  with  this  sex :  for  either 

He  never  shall  find  out  fit  mate,  but  such 

As  some  misfortune  brings  him,  or  mistake ; 

Or  whom  he  wishes  most  shall  seldom  gain 

Through  her  perverseness,  but  shall  see  her  gain'd 

By  a  far  worse,  or  if  she  love,  withheld  903 

By  parents ;  or  his  happiest  choice  too  late 

Shall  meet,  already  link'd  and  wedlock-bound 

To  a  fell  adversary,  his  hate  or  shame : 

Which  infinite  calamity  shall  cause 

To  human  life,  and  household  peace  confound." 

He  added  not,  and  from  her  turn'd ;  but  Eve, 
Not  so  repulsed,  with  tears  that  ceased  not  flowing. 
And  tresses  all  disordered,  at  his  feet 
Fell  humble,  and  embracing  them,  besought 
His  peace,  and  thus  proceeded  in  her  plaint : 

"Forsake  me  not  thus,  Adam!  witness  Heaven       914 


B.  X.J  PARADISE    LOST.  259 

"What  love  sincere,  and  reverence  in  my  heart 

I  bear  thee,  and  unweeting  have  offended, 

Unhappily  deceived !     Thy  suppliant 

I  beg,  and  clasp  thy  knees ;  bereave  me  not, 

Whereon  I  live,  thy  gentle  looks,  thy  aid, 

Thy  counsel  in  this  uttermost  distress, 

My  only  strength  and  stay :  forlorn  of  thee, 

Whither  shall  I  betake  me,  where  subsist  ? 

While  yet  we  live,  scarce  one  short  hour  perhaps, 

Between  us  two  let  there  be  peace,  both  joining,        924 

As  join'd  in  injuries,  one  enmity 

Against  a  foe  by  doom  express  assigned  us, 

That  cruel  serpent.     On  me  exercise  not 

Thy  hatred  for  this  misery  befallen,  „ 

On  me  alreadv  lost,  me  than  myself 

More  miserable ;  both  have  sinn'd,  but  thou 

Against  God  only,  I  against  God  and  thee, 

And  to  the  place  of  judgment  will  return, 

There  with  my  cries  importune  Heaven,  that  all 

The  sentence  from  thy  head  removed  may  light 

On  me,  sole  cause  to  thee  of  all  this  woe,  935 

Me,  me  only,  just  object  of  his  ire." 

She  ended  weeping,  and  her  lowly  plight, 
Immovable  till  peace  obtain'd  from  fault 
Acknowledged  and  deplored,  in  Adam  wrought 
Commiseration ;  soon  his  heart  relented 
Towards  her,  his  life  so  late  and  sole  delight, 
Now  at  his  feet  submissive  in  distress, 
Creature  so  fair  his  reconcilement  seeking, 
His  counsel  whom  she  had  displeased,  his  aid : 
As  one  disarmed,  his  anger  all  he  lost, 
And  thus  with  peaceful  words  upraised  her  soon :       946 

"  Unwary,  and  too  desirous,  as  before, 
So  now  of  what  thou  know'st  not,  who  desir'st 
The  punishment  all  on  thyself ;  alas, 
Bear  thine  own  first,  ill  able  to  sustain 
His  full  wrath,  whose  thou  feePst  as  yet  least  part, 
And  my  displeasure  bear'st  so  ill.    If  prayers 
Could  alter  high  decrees,  I  to  that  place 
Would  speed  before  thee,  and  be  louder  heard, 
That  on  my  head  all  might  be  visited, 
Thy  frailty  and  infirmer  sex  forgiven, 
To  me  committed  and  l}y  me  exposed.  957 


260  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  x 

But  rise,  let  us  no  more  contend,  nor  blame 
Each  other,  blamed  enough  elsewhere,  but  strive, 
In  offices  of  love,  how  we  may  lighten 
Each  other's  burden  in  our  share  of  woe ; 
Since  this  day's  death  denounced,  if  ought  I  see, 
"Will  prove  no  sudden,  but  a  slow-paced  evil, 
A  long  day's  dying  to  augment  our  pain, 
And  to  our  seed  (O  hapless  seed !)  derived." 

To  whom  thus  Eve,  recovering  heart,  replied : 
"  Adam,  by  sad  experiment  I  know  967 

How  little  weight  my  words  with  thee  can  find. 
Found  so  erroneous,  thence  by  just  event 
Found  so  unfortunate ;  nevertheless, 
Restored  by  thee,  vile  as  I  am,  to  place 
Of  new  acceptance,  hopeful  to  regain 
Thy  love,  the  sole  contentment  of  my  heart, 
Living  or  dying,  from  thee  I  will  not  hide 
What  thoughts  in  my  unquiet  breast  are  risen, 
Tending  to  some  relief  of  our  extremes, 
Or  end,  though  sharp  and  sad,  yet  tolerable, 
As  in  our  evils,  and  of  easier  choice.  £78 

If  care  of  our  descent  perplex  us  most, 
Which  must  be  born  to  certain  woe,  devour'd 
By  Death  at  last ;  and  miserable  it  is 
To  be  to  others  cause  of  misery, 
Our  own  begotten,  and  of  our  loins  to  bring 
Into  this  cursed  world  a  woeful  race, 
That  after  wretched  life  must  be  at  last 
Food  for  so  foul  a  monster ;  in  thy  power 
It  lies,  yet  ere  conception  to  prevent 
The  race  unblest,  to  being  yet  unbegot. 
Childless  thou  art,  childless  remain :  so  Death  989 

Shall  be  deceived  his  glut,  and  with  us  two 
Be  forced  to  satisfy  his  ravenous  maw. 
But  if  thou  judge  it  hard  and  difficult, 
Conversing,  looking,  loving,  to  abstain 
From  love's  due  rites,  nuptial  embraces  sweet, 
And  with  desire  to  languish  without  hope, 
Before  the  present  object  languishing 
With  like  desire,  which  would  be  misery 
And  torment  less  than  none  of  what  we  dread ; 
Then,  both  ourselves  and  seed  at  once  to  free 
From  what  we  fear  for  both,  le«t  us  make  short.         1000 


B.  X.J  PARADISE   LOST.  261 

Let  us  seek  Death,  or,  he  not  found,  supply 
With  our  own  hands  his  office  on  ourselves. 
Why  stand  we  longer  shivering  under  fears, 
That  show  no  end  but  death,  and  have  the  power, 
Of  many  ways  to  die  the  shortest  choosing, 
Destruction  with  destruction  to  destroy?" 

She  ended  here,  or  vehement  despair 
Broke  off  the  rest ;  so  much  of  death  her  thoughts 
Had  entertain-d,  as  dyed  her  cheeks  with  pa!e. 
But  Adam,  with  such  counsel  nothing  sway'd,          1010 
To  better  hopes  his  more  attentive  mind 
Laboring  had  raised,  and  thus  to  Eve  replied  : 

"  Eve,  thy  contempt  of  life  and  pleasure  seems 
To  argue  in  thee  something  more  sublime 
And  excellent  than  what  thy  mind  contemns ; 
But  self-destruction  therefore  sought,  refutes 
That  excellence  thought  in  thee,  and  implies, 
Kot  thy  contempt,  but  anguish  and  regret 
For  loss  of  life  and  pleasure  overloved. 
Or  if  thou  covet  death,  as  utmost  end 
Of  misery,  so  thinking  to  evade  1021 

The  penalty  pronounced,  doubt  not  but  God 
Hath  wiselier  arm'd  his  vengeful  ire  than  so 
To  be  forestall'd ;  much  more  I  fear  lest  death, 
So  snatch'd,  will  not  exempt  us  from  the  pain 
We  are  by  doom  to  pay ;  rather  such  acts 
Of  contumacy  will  provoke  the  Highest 
To  make  death  in  us  live.     Then  let  us  seek 
Some  safer  resolution,  which  methinks 
I  have  in  view,  calling  to  mind  with  heed 
Part  of  our  sentence,  that  thy  seed  shall  bruise 
The  serpent's  head;  piteous  amends,  unless  1032 

Be  meant,  whom  I  conjecture,  our  grand  foe, 
Satan,  who,  in  the  serpent,  hath  contrived 
Against  us  this  deceit :  to  crush  his  head 
Wottld  be  revenge  indeed ;  which  will  be  lost 
By  death  brought  on  ourselves,  or  childless  days 
.Resolved  as  thou  proposest ;  so  our  foe 
Shall  'scape  his  punishment  ordain'd,  and  we 
Instead  shall  double  ours  upon  our  heads. 
Nc  more  be  mentioned  then  of  violence 
Against  ourselves,  and  wilful  barrenness, 
That  cuts  us  off  from  hope,  and  savors  only  1043 


262  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  x, 

Rancor  and  pride,  impatience  and  despite, 

Reluctance  against  God  and  his  just  yoke 

Laid  on  our  necks.     Remember  with  what  mild 

And  gracious  temper  he  both  heard  and  judged 

Without  wrath  or  reviling ;  we  expected 

Immediate  dissolution,  which  we  thought 

Was  meant  by  death  that  day,  when  lo,  to  thee 

Pains  only  in  child-bearing  were  foretold, 

And  bringing  forth,  soon  recompensed  with  joy, 

Fruit  of  thy  womb  :  on  me  the  curse  aslope  1053 

Glanced  on  the  ground ;  with  labor  I  must  earn 

My  bread.    What  harm  ?    Idleness  had  been  worse ; 

My  labor  will  sustain  me ;  and  lest  cold 

Or  heat  should  injure  us,  his  timely  care 

Hath  unbesought  provided,  and  his  hands 

Clothed  us  unworthy,  pitying  while  he  judged ; 

How  much  more,  if  we  pray  him,  will  his  ear 

Be  open,  and  his  heart  to  pity  incline, 

And  teach  us  further  by  what  means  to  shun 

The  inclement  seasons,  rain,  ice,  hail,  and  snow  ? 

Which  now  the  sky  with  various  face  begins  1064 

To  show  us  in  this  mountain,  while  the  winds 

Blow  moist  and  keen,  shattering  the  graceful  locks 

Of  these  fair-spreading  trees :  which  bids  us  seek 

Some  better  shroud,  some  better  warmth  to  cherish 

Our  limbs  benumb'd,  ere  this  diurnal  star 

Leave  cold  the  night,  how  we,  his  gather' d  beams 

Reflected,  may  with  matter  sere  foment ; 

Or  by  collision  of  two  bodies  grind 

The  air  attrite  to  fire,  as  late  the  clouds 

Justling,  or  push'd  with  winds,  rude  in  their  shock,     1074 

Tine  the  slant  lightning,  whose  thwart  flame,  driven  down. 

Kindles  the  gurnmy  bark  of  fir  or  pine, 

And  sends  a  comfortable  heat  from  far, 

Which  might  supply  the  sun :  such  fire  to  use, 

And  what  may  else  be  remedy  or  cure  • 

To  evils  which  our  own  misdeeds  have  wrought, 

He  will  instruct  us  praying,  and  of  grace 

Beseeching  him,  so  as  we  need  not  fear 

To  pass  commodiously  this  life,  sustained 

By  him  with  many  comforts,  till  we  end 

In  dust,  our  final  rest  and  native  home. 

What  better  can  we  do,  than,  to  the  place  1086 


.  X.]  PARADISE    LOST.  263 

Repairing  where  he  judged  us,  prostrate  fall 

Before  him  reverent,  and  there  confess 

Humbly  our  faults,  and  pardon  beg,  with  tears 

Watering  the  ground,  and  with  our  sighs  the  air 

Frequenting,  sent  from  hearts  contrite,  in  sign 

Of  sorrow  unfeign'd,  and  humiliation  meek  ? 

Undoubtedly  he  will  relent  and  turn 

From  his  displeasure ;  in  whose  look  serene, 

When  angry  most  he  seem'd  and  most  severe, 

What  else  but  favor,  grace,  and  mercy  shone  r1         1 006 

So  spake  our  father  penitent ;  nor  Eve 
Felt  less  remorse :  they  forthwith  to  the  place 
Repairing  where  he  judged  them,  prostrate  fell 
Before  him  reverent,  and  both  confess'd 
Humbly  their  faults,  and  pardon  begg'd,  with  tears 
Watering  the  ground,  and  with  their  sighs  the  air 
Frequenting,  sent  from  hearts  contrite,  in  sign 
Of  sorrow  unfeign'd,  and  humiliation  meek. 


PARADISE   LOST. 


BOOK  XL 

THE    ARGUMENT. 

The  Son  of  God  presents  to  his  Father  the  prayers  of  our  first  parents  now  repenting, 
and  intercedes  for  them.  God  accepts  them,  but  declares  that  they  must  nc 
longer  abide  in  Paradise :  sends  Michael  with  a  band  of  cherubim  to  dispossess 
them  ;  but  first  to  reveal  to  Adam  future  things.  Michael's  coming  down.  Adam 
shows  to  Eve  certain  ominous  signs  ;  he  discerns  Michael's  approach,  goes  out  to 
meet  him :  the  angel  denounces  their  departure.  Eve's  lamentation,  Adam 
pleads,  but  submits.  The  angel  leads  him  up  to  a  high  hill ;  sets  before  him,  iu 
vision,  what  shall  happen  till  the  flood. 

THUS  they,  in  lowliest  plight,  repentant  stood 

Praying ;  for,  from  the  mercy-seat  above, 

Prevenient  grace  descending  had  removed 

The  stony  from  their  hearts,  and  made  new  flesh 

Regenerate  grow  instead,  that  sighs  now  breathed 

Unutterable,  which  the  Spirit  of  prayer 

Inspired,  and  wing'd  for  Heaven  with  speedier  flight 

Than  loudest  oratory :  yet  their  port 

Not  of  mean  suitors,  nor  important  less 

SeemM  their  petition,  than  when  the  ancient  pair 

In  fables  old,  less  ancient  yet  than  these, 

Deucalion  and  chaste  Pyrrha,  to  restore  12 

The  race  of  mankind  drown'd,  before  the  shrine 

Of  Themis  stood  devout.    To  Heaven  their  prayers 

Flew  up,  nor  miss'd  the  way,  by  envious  winds 

Blown  vagabond  or  frustrate :  in  they  pass'd 

Dimensionless  through  heavenly  doors ;  then  clad 

With  incense,  where  the  golden  altar  fumed, 

By  their  great  Intercessor,  came  in  sight 

Before  the  Father's  throne :  them  the  glad  Son 

Presenting,  thus  to  intercede  began : 

"  See,  Father,  what  first  fruits  on  earth  are  sprung 
From  thy  implanted  grace  in  man,  these  sighs          23 


)  )   )   i  > 

,»'", 


p  v.'it 


.ongi 


2G6  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  xi 

Hut  let  as  call  to  synod  all  the  blest 

Thro'  Heaven's  wide  bounds ;  from  them  I  will  not  hide 

My  judgments,  how  with  mankind  I  proceed, 

As  how  with  peccant  angels  late  they  saw, 

And  in  their  state,  though  firm,  stood  more  confirmed." 

He  ended,  and  the  Son  gave  signal  high 
To  the  bright  minister  that  watch'd ;  he  blew 
His  trumpet,  heard  in  Oreb  since  perhaps 
"When  God  descended,  and  perhaps  once  more 
To  sound  at  general  doom.     The  angelic  blast  76 

Fill'd  all  the  regions :  from  their  blissful  bowers 
Of  amaranthine  shade,  fountain,  or  spring, 
By  the  waters  of  life,  where'er  they  sat 
In  fellowships  of  joy,  the  sons  of  light 
Hasted,  resorting  to  the  summons  high, 
And  took  their  seats  ;  till  from  his  throne  supreme 
The  Almighty  thus  pronounced  his  sovereign  will : 

"  O  sons,  like  one  of  us  man  is  become 
To  know  both  good  and  evil,  since  his  taste 
Of  that  defended  fruit ;  but  let  him  boast 
His  knowledge  of  good  lost,  and  evil  got ;  87 

Happier  had  it  sufficed  him  to  have  known 
Good  by  itself,  and  evil  not  at  all. 
He  sorrows  now,  repents,  and  prays  contrite, 
My  motions  in  him ;  longer  than  they  move, 
His  heart  I  know  how  variable  and  vain, 
Self-left.     Lest  therefore  his  now  bolder  hand 
Reach  also  of  the  tree  of  life,  and  eat, 
And  live  forever,  dream  at  least  to  live 
Forever,  to  remove  him  I  decree, 
And  send  him  from  the  garden  forth  to  till 
The  ground  whence  he  was  taken,  fitter  soil.  98 

"  Michael,  this  my  behest  have  thou  in  charge ; 
Take  to  thee  from  among  the  cherubim 
Thy  choice  of  flaming  warriors,  lest  the  fiend, 
Or  in  behalf  of  man,  or  to  invade 
Vacant  possession,  some  new  trouble  raise : 
Haste  thee,  and  from  the  Paradise  of  God, 
Without  remorse,  drive  out  the  sinful  pair, 
From  hallow'd  ground  the  unholy,  and  denounce 
To  them  and  to  their  progeny  from  thence 
Perpetual  banishment.    Yet,  lest  they  faint 
At  the  sad  sentence,  rigorously  urged,  109 


B.  XI.)  PARADISE   LOST.  26? 

(For  I  behold  them  soften'd  and  with  tears 
'   Bewailing  their  excess,)  all  terror  hide. 
If  patiently  thy  bidding  they  obey, 
Dismiss  them  not  disconsolate ;  reveal 
To  Adam  what  shall  come  in  future  days, 
As  I  shall  thee  enlighten ;  intermix 
My  covenant  in  the  woman's  seed  renew'd : 
So  send  them  forth,  though  sorrowing,  yet  in  peace 
And  on  the  east  side  of  the  garden  place, 
Where  entrance  up  from  Eden  easiest  climbs,  119 

Cherubic  watch,  and  of  a  sword  the  flame 
Wide- waving,  all  approach  far  off  to  fright, 
And  guard  all  passage  to  the  tree  of  life ; 
Lest  Paradise  a  receptacle  prove 
To  spirits  foul,  and  all  my  trees  their  prey, 
With  whose  stolen  fruit  man  once  more  to  delude." 

He  ceased,  and  the  archangelic  power  prepared 
For  swift  descent ;  with  him  the  cohort  bright 
Of  watchful  cherubim  :  four  faces  each 
Had,  like  a  double  Janus,  all  their  shape 
Spangled  with  eyes,  more  numerous  than  those          130 
Of  Argus,1  and  more  wakeful  then  to  drowse, 
Charm'd  with  Arcadian  pipe,  the  pastoral  reed 
Of  Hermes,  or  his  opiate  rod.    Meanwhile, 
To  re-salute  the  world  with  sacred  light, 
Leucothea  waked,  and  with  fresh  dews  embalm'd 
The  earth,  when  Adam  and  first  matron  Eve 
Had  ended  now  their  orisons,  and  found 
Strength  added  from  above ;  new  hope  to  spring 
Out  of  despair ;  joy,  but  with  fear  yet  link'd; 
Which  thus  to  Eve  his  welcome  words  renew'd  : 

"  Eve,  easily  may  faith  admit  that  all  141 

The  good  which  we  enjoy  from  Heaven  descends ; 
But  that  from  us  aught  should  ascend  to  Heaven, 
So  prevalent  as  to  concern  the  mind 
Of  God  high-blest,  or  to  incline  his  will, 
Hard  to  belief  may  seem ;  yet  this  will  prayer, 
Or  one  short  sigh  of  human  breath,  upborne 
Even  to  the  seat  of  God.    For  since  I  sought 
By  prayer  the  offended  Deity  to  appease, 
Kneel'd,  and  before  him  humbled  all  my  heart, 
Kethought  I  saw  him  placable  and  mild, 
Bending  his  ear  ;  persuasion  in  me  grew  152 


268  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [u.  xi 

That  I  wiv<  lieard  with  favor;  peace  returned 

•me  to  ray  breast,  arid  to  my  memory 
His  promise,  that  thy  seed  shall  bruise  our  foe ; 
Which  then  not  minded  in  dismay,  yet  now 
Assures  me  that  the  bitterness  of  death 
Is  past,  and  we  shall  live.     Whence  hail  to  thee, 
Eve,  rightly  call'd,  mother  of  all  mankind, 
Mother  of  all  things  living,  since  by  thee 
Man  is  to  live,  and  all  things  live  for  man." 

To  whom  thus  Eve,  with  sad  demeanor  meek :        162 
"  111  worthy  I  such  title  should  belong 
To  me,  transgressor,  who,  for  thee  ordain'd 
A  help,  became  thy  snare ;  to  me  reproach 
Rather  belongs,  distrust,  and  all  dispraise  : 
But  infinite  in  pardon  was  my  Judge, 
That  I,  who  first  brought  death  on  all,  am  graced 
The  source  of  life :  next  favorable  thou, 
Who  highly  thus  to  entitle  me  vouchsaf  st, 
Far  other  name  deserving.     But  the  field 
To  labor  calls  us,  now  with  sweat  imposed, 
Though  after  sleepless  night ;  for  see,  the  morn,          1 73 
All  unconcern'd  with  our  unrest,  begins 
Her  rosy  progress  smiling :  let  us  forth, 
I  never  from  thy  side  henceforth  to  stray, 
Where'er  our  day's  work  lies,  though  now  enjoin'd 
Laborious  till  day  droop  :  while  here  we  dwell, 
What  can  be  toilsome  in  these  pleasant  walks  ? 
Here  let  us  live,  though  in  fallen  state,  content." 

So  spake,  so  wish'd,  much-humbled  Eve ;  but  fate 
Subscribed  not :  nature  first  gave  signs,  impressed 
On  bird,  beast,  air, — air  suddenly  eclipsed 
After  short  blush  of  morn ;  nigh  in  her  sight  184 

The  bird  of  Jove,  stoop'd  from  his  airy  tour, 
Two  birds  of  gayest  plume  before  him  drove  : 
Down  from  a  hill  the  beast  that  reigns  in  woods, 
First  hunter  then,  pursued  a  gentle  brace, 
Goodliest  of  all  the  forest,  hart  and  hind ; 
Direct  to  the  eastern  gate  was  bent  their  flight. 
Adam  observed,  and  with  his  eye  the  chase 
Pursuing,  not  unmoved,  to  Eve  thus  spake: 

"  O  Eve,  some  further  change  awaits  us  nigh, 
Which  Heaven  by  these  mute  signs  in  nature  shows, 
Forerunners  of  his  purpose;  or  to  warn  IU5 


B.  XI.]  PARADISE    LOST.  260 

Us,  haply  too  secure  of  our  discharge 

From  penalty,  because  from  death  released 

Some  days :  how  long,  and  what  till  then  our  life, 

Who  knows  ?  or  more  than  this,  that  we  are  dust, 

And  thither  must  return,  and  be  no  more  ? 

Why  else  this  double  object  in  our  sight 

Of  flight  pursued  in  the  air,  and  o'er  the  ground, 

One  way  the  self-same  hour  ?  why  in  the  east 

Darkness  ere  day's  mid-course,  and  morning-light 

More  orient  in  yon  western  cloud,  that  draws  205 

O^er  the  blue  firmament  a  radiant  white, 

And  slow  descends,  with  something  heavenly  fraught  ?" 

He  err'd  not,  for  by  this  the  heavenly  bands 
Down  from  a  sky  of  jasper  lighted  now 
In  Paradise,  and  on  a  hill  made  halt, 
A  glorious  apparition,  had  not  doubt 
And  carnal  fear  that  day  dimm'd  Adam  s  eye. 
Not  that  more  glorious,  when  the  angels  met 
Jacob  in  Mahanaim,  where  he  saw 
The  field  pavilion'd  with  his  guardians  bright ; 
Nor  that  which  on  the  flaming  mount  appeared  216 

In  Dothan,  cover'd  with  a  camp  of  fire, 
Against  the  Syrian  king,  who,  to  surprise 
One  man,  assassin-like,  had  levied  war, 
War  unproclaim'd.     The  princely  hierarch 
In  their  bright  stand  there  left  his  powers,  to  seize 
Possession  of  the  garden ;  he  alone, 
To  find  where  Adam  shelter'd,  took  his  way, 
Not  unperceived  of  Adam,  who  to  Eve, 
While  the  great  visitant  approach'd,  thus  spake : 

"  Eve,  now  expect  great  tidings,  which  perhaps 
Of  us  will  soon  determine,  or  impose  22T 

New  laws  to  be  observed ;  for  I  descry, 
From  yonder  blazing  cloud  that  veils  the  hill, 
One  of  the  heavenly  host,  and  by  his  gait 
None  of  the  meanest,  some  great  potentate 
Or  of  the  thrones  above,  such  majesty 
Invests  him  coming :  yet  not  terrible, 
That  I  should  fear ;  nor  sociably  mild, 
As  Raphael,  that  I  should  much  confide  ; 
But  solemn  and  sublime,  whom,  not  to  oifend, 
With  reverence  I  must  meet,  and  thou  rotire." 

He  ended  ;  and  the  archangel  soon  diew  nigh,        238 


270  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  |u.  ju, 

Not  in  his  shape  celestial,  bat  as  man 

Clad  to  meet  man ;  over  his  lucid  arms 

A  military  vest  of  purple  flow'd, 

Livelier  than  Melibcean,  or  the  grain 

Of  Sarra,  worn  by  kings  and  heroes  old 

In  time  of  truce;  Iris  had  dipp'd  the  woof: 

His  starry  helm,  unbuckled,  show'd  him  prime 

In  manhood  where  youth  ended ;  by  his  side, 

As  in  a  glistering  zodiac,  hung  the  sword, 

Satan's  dire  dread,  and  in  his  hand  the  spear.  248 

Adam  bow'd  low ;  he,  kingly  from  his  state, 

Inclined  not,  but  his  coming  thus  declared: 

"  Adam,  Heaven's  high  behest  no  preface  needs : 
Sufficient  that  thy  prayers  are  heard,  and  Death, 
Then  due  by  sentence  when  thou  didst  transgress, 
Defeated  of  his  seizure  many  days, 
Given  thee  of  grace,  wherein  thou  mayst  repent, 
And  one  bad  act  with  many  deeds  well  done 
Mayst  cover :  well  may  then  thy  Lord,  appeased, 
Redeem  thee  quite  from  Death's  rapacious  claim ; 
But  longer  in  this  Paradise  to  dwell  259 

Permits  not :  to  remove  thee  I  am  come, 
And  send  thee  from  the  garden  forth,  to  till 
The  groun.d  whence  thou  wast  taken,  fitter  soil." 

He  added  not,  for  Adam  at  the  news 
Heart-struck  with  chilling  gripe  of  sorrow  stood, 
That  all  his  senses  bound :  Eve,  who  unseen 
Yet  all  had  heard,  with  audible  lament 
Disco ver'd  soon  the  place  of  her  retire  : 

"  0  unexpected  stroke,  worse  than  of  death ! 
Must  I  thus  leave  thee,  Paradise  ?  thus  leave 
Thee,  native  soil,  these  happy  walks  and  shades,         270 
Fit  haunt  of  gods  ?  where  I  had  hope  to  spend, 
Quiet,  though  sad,  the  respite  of  that  day 
That  must  be  mortal  to  us  both.     O  flowers, 
That  never  will  in  other  climate  grow, 
My  early  visitation,  and  my  last 
At  even,  which  I  bred  up  with  tender  hand 
From  the  first  opening  bud,  and  gave  ye  names  ; 
Who  now  shall  rear  ye  to  the  sun,  or  rank 
Your  tribes,  and  water  from  the  ambrosial  fount  ? 
Thee,  lastly,  nuptial  bower,  by  me  adorn'd 
NVith  what  to  sight  or  smell  was  sweet ;  from  thee     281 


B.  XI.]  PARADISE    LOST.  27 1 

How  shall  I  part,  and  whither  wander  down 
Into  a  lower  world,  to  this  obscure 
And  wild?  how  shall  we  breathe  in  other  air 
Less  pure,  accustom'd  to  immortal  fruits  ?" 

Whom  thus  the  angel  interrupted  mild : 
"  Lament  not,  Eve,  but  patiently  resign 
What  justly  thou  hast  lost ;  nor  set  thy  heart, 
Thus  over-fond,  on  that  which  is  not  thine : 
Thy  going  is  not  lonely ;  with  thee  goes 
Thy  husband;  him  to  follow  thou  art  bcund  ;  291 

Where  he  abides,  think  there  thy  native  soil." 

Adam,  by  this  from  the  cold  sudden  damp 
Recovering,  and  his  scattered  spirits  returned, 
To  Michael  thus  his  humble  words  address'd ; 

"  Celestial,  whether  among  the  thrones,  or  named 
Of  them  the  highest,  for  such  of  shape  may  seem 
Prince  above  princes,  gently  hast  thou  told 
Thy  message,  which  might  else  in  telling  wound, 
And  in  performing  end  us ;  what  besides 
Of  sorrow,  and  dejection,  and  despair 
Our  frailty  can  sustain,  thy  tidings  bring,  302 

Departure  from  this  happy  place,  our  sweet 
Recess,  and  only  consolation  left 
Familiar  to  our  eyes ;  all  places  else 
Inhospitable  appear  and  desolate, 
Nor  knowing  us  nor  known :  and  if  by  prayer 
Incessant  I  could  hope  to  change  the  will 
Of  him  who  all  things  can,  I  would  not  cease 
To  weary  him  with  my  assiduous  cries : 
But  prayer  against  his  absolute  decree 
"No  more  avails  than  breath  against  the  wind, 
Blown  stifling  back  on  him  that  breathes  it  forth :      313 
Therefore  to  his  great  bidding  I  submit. 
This  most  afflicts  me,  that,  departing  hence, 
As  from  his  face  I  shall  be  hid,  deprived 
His  blessed  countenance :  here  I  could  frequent 
With  worship  place  by  place  where  he  vouchsafed 
Presence  divine,  and  to  my  sons  relate, 
On  this  mount  he  appear'd ;  under  this  tree 
Stood  visible  ;  among  these  pines  his  voice 
I  heard ;  here  with  him  at  this  fountain  talk'd : 
So  many  grateful  altars  I  would  rear 
Of  grassy  turf,  and  pile  up  every  stone  324 


272  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  xi 

Of  lustre  from  the  brook,  in  memory, 

Or  monument  to  ages,  and  thereon 

Offer  sweet-smelling  gums,  and  fruits,  and  flowers. 

In  yonder  nether  world  where  shall  I  seek 

His  bright  appearances,  or  footstep  trace  ? 

For  though  I  fled  him  angry,  yet,  recall'd 

To  life  prolonged  and  promised  race,  I  now 

Gladly  behold  though  but  his  utmost  skirts 

Of  glory,  and  far  off  his  steps  adore." 

To  whom  thus  Michael  with  regard  benign :  334 

u  Adam,  thou  know'st  Heaven  his,  and  all  the  earth, 
Not  this  rock  only ;  his  omnipresence  fills 
Land,  sea,  and  air,  and  every  kind  that  lives, 
Fomented  by  his  virtual  power  and  warm'd : 
All  the  earth  he  gave  thee  to  possess  and  rule, 
No  despicable  gift ;  surmise  not  then 
His  presence  to  these  narrow  bounds  confined 
Of  Paradise  or  Eden :  this  had  been 
Perhaps  thy  capital  seat,  from  whence  had  spread 
All  generations,  and  had  hither  come, 
From  all  the  ends  of  the  earth,  to  celebrate  345 

And  reverence  thee  their  great  progenitor. 
But  this  pre-eminence  thou  hast  lost,  brought  down 
To  dwell  on  even  ground  now  with  thy  sons : 
Yet  doubt  not  but  in  valley  and  in  plain 
God  is  as  here,  and  will  be  found  alike 
Present,  and  of  his  presence  many  a  sign 
Still  following  thee,  still  compassing  thee  round 
With  goodness  and  paternal  love,  his  face 
Express,  and  of  his  steps  the  track  divine. 
Which  that  thou  mayst  believe,  and  be  confirmed, 
Ere  thou  from  hence  depart,  Know  I  am  sent  356 

To  show  thee  what  shall  come  in  future  days 
To  thee  and  to  thy  offspring :  good  with  bad 
Expect  to  hear,  supernal  grace  contending 
"With  sinfulness  of  men;  thereby  to  learn 
True  patience,  and  to  temper  joy  with  fear 
And  pious  sorrow,  equally  inured 
By  moderation  either  state  to  bear, 
Prosperous  or  adverse :  so  shalt  thou  lead 
Safest  thy  life,  and  best  prepared  endure 
Thy  mortal  passage  when  it  comes.     Ascend 
This  hill ;  let  Eve  (for  I  have  drench'd  her  eyes)         3G7 


B.  XI.]  PARADISE   LOST.  2*78 

Here  sleep  below,  while  thon  to  foresight  wak'st ; 
As  once  thou  slept'st,  while  she  to  life  was  form'd." 

To  whom  thus  Adam  gratefully  replied : 
"  Ascend ;  I  follow  thee,  safe  guide,  the  path 
Thou  lead'st  me,  and  to  the  hand  of  Heaven  submit, 
However  chastening ;   to  the  evil  turn 
My  ohvious  breast,  arming  to  overcome 
By  suffering,  and  earn  rest  from  labor  won, 
If  so  I  may  attain."     So  both  ascend 
In  the  visions  of  God.     It  was  a  hill  377 

Of  Paradise  the  highest,  from  whose  top 
The  hemisphere  of  earth  in  clearest  ken 
Stretch'd  out  to  the  amplest  reach  of  prospect  lay. 
Not  higher  that  hill,  nor  wider  looking  round, 
Whereon  for  different  cause  the  tempter  set 
Our  second  Adam  in  the  wilderness, 
To  show  him  all  earth's  kingdoms  and  their  glory. 
His  eye  might  there  command  wherever  stood 
City  of  old  or  modern  fame,  the  seat 
Of  mightiest  empire,  from  the  destined  walls 
Of  Cambalu,  seat  of  Cathaian  Can,  388 

And  Samarcand  by  Oxus,  Temir's  throne, 
To  Paquin  of  Sinoean  kings ;  and  thence 
To  Agra  and  Lahore  of  great  mogul, 
Down  to  the  golden  Chersonese ;  or  where 
The  Persian  in  Ecbatan  sat,  or  since 
In  Hispahan ;  or  where  the  Russian  czar 
In  Moscow,  or  the  sultan  in  Bizance, 
Turchestan-born :  nor  could  his  eye  not  ken 
The  empire  of  Negus  to  his  utmost  port, 
Ercoco,  and  the  less  maritime  kings 
Mombaza,  and  Quiloa,  and  Melind,  399 

And  Sofala,  thought  Ophir,  to  the  realm 
Of  Congo,  and  Angola  farthest  south ; 
Or  thence  from  Niger  flood  to  Atlas  mount, 
The  kingdoms  of  Almansor,  Fez  and  Sus, 
Morocco,  and  Algiers,  and  Tremisen ; 
On  Europe  thence,  and  where  Borne  was  to  sway 
The  world :  in  spirit  perhaps  he  also  saw 
Rich  Mexico,  the  seat  of  Montezume, 
And  Cusco  in  Peru,  the  richer  seat 
Of  Atabalipa,  and  yet  unspoil'd 
Guiana,  whose  great  city  Geryon's  sons 


274  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  xi 

'Call  El  Dorado.    Bat  to  nobler  sights 
Michael  from  Adam's  eyes  the  film  removed, 
AVhich  that  false  fruit  that  promised  clearer  sight 
Had  bred ;  then  purged  with  euphrasy  and  rue 
The  visual  nerve,  for  he  had  much  to  see ; 
And  from  the  well  of  life  three  drops  instill'd. 
So  deep  the  power  of  these  ingredients  pierced, 
E'en  to  the  inmost  seat  of  mental  sight, 
That  Adam  now,  enforced  to  close  his  eyes, 
Sunk  down,  and  all  his  spirits  became  entranced ;       42C 
->  But  him  the  gentle  angel  by  the  hand 
Soon  raised,  and  his  attention  thus  recall'd : 

"  Adam,  now  ope  thine  eyes,  and  first  behold 
The  effects  which  thy  original  crime  hath  wrought 
In  some  to  spring  from  thee,  who  never  touch'd 
The  excepted  tree,  nor  with  the  snake  conspired, 
Nor  sinn'd  thy  sin,  yet  from  that  sin  derive 
Corruption  to  bring  forth  more  violent  deeds." 

His  eyes  he  open'd,  and  beheld  a  field, 
Part  arable  and  tilth,  whereon  were  sheaves 
New-reap'd,  the  other  part  sheep-walks  and  folds ;     481 
I'  the  midst  an  altar  as  the  landmark  stood, 
Rustic,  of  grassy  sward;  thither  anon 
A  sweaty  reaper  from  his  tillage  brought 
First-fruits,  the  green  ear,  and  the  yellow  sheaf, 
Uncull'd,  as  came  to  hand ;  a  shepherd  next, 
More  meek,  came  with  the  firstlings  of  his  flock, 
Choicest  and  best ;  then  sacrificing,  laid 
The  inwards  and  their  fat,  with  incense  strew'd, 
On  the  cleft  wood,  and  all  due  rites  perform'd. 
His  offering  soon  propitious  fire  from  Heaven 
Consumed  with  nimble  glance  and  grateful  steam ;     442 
The  other's  not,  for  his  was  not  sincere ; 
AVhereat  he  inly  raged,  and,  as  they  talk'd, 
Smote  him  into  the  midriff  with  a  stone 
That  beat  out  life :  he  fell,  and,  deadly  pale, 
Groan'd  out  his  soul  with  gushing  blood  effused. 
Much  at  that  sight  was  Adam  in  his  heart 
Dismay'd,  and  thus  in  haste  to  the  angel  cried: 

"  O  teacher,  some  great  mischief  hath  befallen 
To  that  meek  man,  who  well  had  sacrificed ! 
Is  piety  thus  and  pure  devotion  paid?" 

To  whom  Michael  thus,  he  also  moved,  replied  :     453 


B.  XI.]  PARADISE    LOST,  275 

"  These  two  are  brethren,  Adam,  and  to  come 
Out  of  thy  loins ;  the  unjust  the  just  hath  slain, 
For  envy  that  his  brother's  offering  found 
From  Heaven  acceptance ;  but  the  bloody  fact 
Will  be  avenged,  and  the  other's  faith,  approved. 
Lose  no  reward,  though  here  thou  see  him  die, 
Rolling  in  dust  and  gore."    To  which  our  sire  : 

44  Alas,  both  for  the  deed  and  for  the  cause ! 
But  have  I  now  seen  Death  ?  Is  this  the  way 
I  must  return  to  native  dust  ?  O  sight  46<j 

Of  terror,  foul  and  ugly  to  behold ! 
Horrid  to  think,  how  horrible  to  feel!" 

To  whom  thus  Michael :  "  Death  thou  hast  seen 
In  his  first  shape  on  man ;  but  many  shapes 
Of  Death,  and  many  are  the  ways  that  lead 
To  his  grim  cave,  all  dismal ;  yet  to  sense 
More  terrible  at  the  entrance  than  within. 
Some,  as  thou  saw'st,  by  violent  stroke  shall  die, 
By  fire,  flood,  famine ;  by  intemperance  more 
In  meats  and  drinks,  which  on  the  earth  shall  bring 
Diseases  dire,  of  which  a  monstrous  crew  474 

Before  thee  shall  appear,  that  thou  mayst  know 
What  misery  the  inabstinence  of  Eve 
Shajl  bring  on  men."    Immediately  a  place 
Bemre  his  eyes  appear'd,  sad,  noisome,  dark. 
A  lazar-house  it  seem'd,  wherein  were  laid 
Numbers  of  all  diseased,  all  maladies 
Of  ghastly  spasm,  or  racking  torture,  qualms 
Of  heart-sick  agony ;  all  feverous  kinds, 
Convulsions,  epilepsies,  fierce  catarrhs^ 
Intestine  stone  and  ulcer,  colic  pangs, 
Demoniac  phrensy,  moping  melancholy,  485 

And  moon-struck  madness,  pining  atrophy, 
Marasmus,  and  wide- wasting  pestilence, 
Dropsies,  and  asthmas,  and  joint-racking  rheums. 
Dire  was  the  tossing,  deep  the  groans ;  Despair 
Tended  the  sick  busiest  from  couch  to  couch  ; 
And  over  them  triumphant  Death  his  dart 
Shook,  but  delay'd  to  strike,  though  oft  invoked 
With  vows,  as  their  chief  good,  and  final  hope. 
Sight  so  deform  what  heart  of  rock  could  long 
Dry-eyed  behold  ?  Adam  could  not,  but  wept, 
Though  not  of  woman  born;  compassion  quell'd        496 


276  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  IB. 


best  of  man,  and  gave  him  up  to  tears 
:  >ace,  till  firmer  thoughts  restrained  excess  : 
And,  scarce  recovering  words,  his  plaint  renew'd  : 

"  O  miserable  mankind,  to  what  fall 
Degraded,  to  what  wretched  state  reserved  ! 
Hotter  end  here  unborn.     "Why  is  life  given 
To  be  thus  wrested  from  us  ?  rather  why 
Obtruded  on  us  thus  ?  who,  if  we  knew 
What  we  receive,  would  either  not  accept 
Life  offer'd,  or  soon  beg  to  lay  it  down,  506 

Glad  to  be  so  dismiss'd  in  peace.     Can  thus 
The  image  of  God,  in  man  created  once 
So  goodly  and  erect,  though  faulty  since, 
To  such  unsightly  sufferings  be  debased 
Under  inhuman  pains?    Why  should  not  man, 
Retaining  still  divine  similitude 
In  part,  from  such  deformities  be  free, 
And  for  his  Maker's  image  sake  exempt?" 

"  Their  Maker's  image,"  answer'd  Michael,  "  then 
Forsook  them,  when  themselves  they  vilified 
To  serve  ungovern'd  appetite,  and  took  517 

His  image  whom  they  served,  a  brutish  vice, 
Inductive  mainly  to  the  sin  of  Eve. 
Therefore  so  abject  is  their  punishment, 
Disfiguring  not  God's  likeness,  but  their  own, 
Or  if  his  likeness,  by  themselves  defaced, 
While  they  pervert  pure  nature's  healthful  rules 
To  loathsome  sickness  ;  worthily,  since  they 
God's  image  did  not  reverence  in  themselves." 

"I  yield  it  just,"  said  Adam,  "and  submit. 
But  is  there  yet  no  other  way,  besides 
These  painful  passages,  how  we  may  come  528 

To  death,  and  mix  with  our  connatural  dust  ?" 

"  There  is,"  said  Michael,  "  if  thoic  well  observe 
The  rule  of  not  too  much,  by  temperance  taught, 
In  what  thou  eat'st  and  drink'st,  seeking  from  thence 
Due  nourishment,  not  gluttonous  delight, 
Till  many  years  over  thy  head  return  : 
So  mayst  thou  live,  till  like  ripe  fruit  thou  drop 
Into  thy  mother's  lap,  or  be  with  ease 
Gatherd,  not  harshly  pluck'd,  for  death  mature. 
This  is  old  age  ;  but  then  thou  must  outlive  538 

Thy  youth,  thy  strength,  thy  beauty,  which  will  change 


B.  XI.]  PARADISE    LOST.  27? 

To  wither'd,  weak,  and  gray ;  thy  senses  then 
Obtuse,  all  taste  of  pleasure  must  forego, 
To  what  thou  hast ;  and  for  the  air  of  youth, 
Hopeful  and  cheerful,  in  thy  blood  will  reign 
A  melancholy  damp  of  cold  and  dry, 
To  weigh  thy  spirits  down,  and  last  consume 
The  balm  of  life."     To  whom  our  ancestor : 

"  Henceforth  I  fly  not  death,  nor  would  prolong 
Life  much,  bent  rather  how  I  may  be  quit, 
Fairest  and  easiest,  of  this  cumbrous  charge,  540 

Which  I  must  keep  till  my  appointed  day 
Of  rendering  up,  and  patiently  attend 
My  dissolution."    Michael  replied : 

"  Nor  love  thy  life,  nor  hate ;  but  what  thou  liv'st 
.  Live  well ;  how  long  or  short,  permit  to  Heaven ; 
And  now  prepare  thee  for  another  sight." 

He  look'd,  and  saw  a  spacious  plain,  whereon 
"Were  tents  of  various  hue ;  by  some  were  herds 
Of  cattle  grazing;  others,  whence  the  sound 
Of  instruments  that  made  melodious  chime 
Was  heard,  of  harp  and  organ ;  and  who  moved         560 
Their  stops  and  chords  were  seen ;  his  volant  touch 
Instinct  through  all  proportions  low  and  high 
Fled  and  pursued  transverse  the  resonant  fugue. 
In  other  parts  stood  one  who  at  the  forge, 
Laboring,  two  massy  clods  of  iron  and  brass 
Had  melted,  (whether  found  where  casual  fire 
Had  wasted  woods  on  mountain  or  in  vale, 
Down  to  the  veins  of  earth,  thence  gliding  hot 
To  some  cave's  mouth,  or  whether  wash'd  by  stream 
From  under-ground ;)  the  liquid  ore  he  drain'd 
Into  fit  moulds  prepared ;  from  which  he  form'd        571 
First  his  own  tools ;  then,  what  might  else  be  wrought 
Fusile  or  graven  in  metal.    After  these, 
But  on  the  hither  side,  a  different  sort 
From  the  high  neighboring  hills,  which  was  their  seat, 
Down  to  the  plain  descended :  by  their  guise 
Just  men  they  seem'd,  and  all  their  study  bent 
To  worship  God  aright,  and  know  his  works 
N"ot  hid,  nor  those  things  last  which  might  preserve 
Freedom  and  peace  to  men :  they  on  the  plain 
Long  had  not  walk'd,  when  from  the  tents  behold      583 
A  bevy  of  fair  women,  richly  gay 

24 


278  MILTON  S    POETICAL   WORKS.  [B.  XT 

In  gems  and  wanton  dress ;  to  the  harp  they  sung 

Soft  amorous  ditties,  and  in  dance  came  on. 

The  men,  though  grave,  eyed  them,  and  let  their  eyes 

Rove  without  rein,  till  in  the  amorous  net 

Fast  caught,  they  liked,  and  each  his  liking  chose ; 

And  now  of  love  they  treat,  till  the  evening  star, 

Love's  harbinger,  appeared ;  then  all  in  heat 

They  light  the  nuptial  torch,  and  bid  invoke 

Hymen,  then  first  to  marriage  rites  invoked  : 

With  feast  and  music  all  the  tents  resound.  592 

Such  happy  interview  and  fair  event 

Of  love  and  youth  not  lost,  songs,  garlands,  flowers, 

And  charming  symphonies,  attach'd  the  heart 

Of  Adam,  soon  inclined  to  admit  delight, 

The  bent  of  nature ;  which  he  thus  expressed : 

"  True  opener  of  mine  eyes,  prime  angel  blest, 
Much  better  seems  this  vision,  and  more  hope 
Of  peaceful  days  portends,  than  those  two  past : 
Those  were  of  hate  and  death,  or  pain  much  worse ; 
Here  nature  seems  fulfill'd  in  all  her  ends." 

To  whom  thus  Michael:  "Judge  not  what  is  best  C08 
By  pleasure,  though  to  nature  seeming  meet, 
Created  as  thou  art  to  nobler  end, 
Holy  and  pure,  conformity  divine. 
Those  tents  thou  saw'st  so  pleasant,  were  the  tents 
Of  wickedness,  wherein  shall  dwell  his  race 
Who  slew  his  brother ;  studious  they  appear 
Of  arts  that  polish  life,  inventors  rare, 
Unmindful  of  their  Maker,  though  his  Spirit 
Taught  them ;  but  they  his  gifts  acknowledg'd  none. 
Yet  they  a  beauteous  offspring  shall  beget ; 
For  that  fair  female  troop  thou  saw'st,  that  seem'd     614 
Of  goddesses,  so  blithe,  so  smooth,  so  gay, 
Yet  empty  of  all  good  wherein  consists 
Woman's  domestic  honor  and  chief  praise ; 
Bred  only  and  completed  to  the  taste 
Of  lustful  appetence,  to  sing,  to  dance, 
To  dress,  and  troll  the  tongue,  and  roll  the  eye ; 
To  these  that  sober  race  of  rnen,  whose  lives 
Religious  titled  them  the  sons  of  God, 
Shall  yield  up  all  their  virtue,  all  their  fame, 
Ignobly,  to  the  trains  and  to  the  smiles 
Of  these  fair  atheists ;  and  now  swim  in  joy,  C25 


B.  XI.1  PARADISE    LOST.  279 

Ere  long  to  swim  at  large ;  and  laugh,  for  which 
The  world,  ere  long,  a  world  of  tears  must  weep." 

To  whom  thus  Adam,  of  short  joy  bereft : 
"  0  pity  and  shame,  that  they,  who  to  live  well 
Enter'd  so  fair,  should  turn  aside  to  tread 
Paths  indirect,  or  in  the  midway  faint ! 
But  still  I  see  the  tenor  of  man's  woe 
Holds  on  the  same,  from  woman  to  begin." 

"From  man's  effeminate  slackness  it  begins," 
Said  the  angel,  "  who  should  better  hold  his  place      635 
By  wisdom,  and  superior  gifts  received. 
But  now  prepare  thee  for  another  scene." 

He  look'd,  and  saw  wide  territory  spread 
Before  him ;  towns,  and  rural  works  between ; 
Cities  of  men,  with  lofty  gates  and  towers, 
Concourse  in  arms,  fierce  faces  threatening  war, 
Giants  of  mighty  bone,  and  bold  emprise : 
Part  wield  their  arms,  part  curb  the  foaming  steed, 
Single,  or  in  array  of  battle  ranged, 
Both  horse  and  foot;  nor  idly  mustering  stood  : 
One  way  a  band  select  from  forage  drives  646 

A  herd  of  beeves,  fair  oxen  and  fair  kine, 
From  a  fat  meadow-ground ;  or  fleecy  flock, 
Ewes  and  their  bleating  lambs,  over  the  plain, 
Their  booty ;  scarce  with  life  the  shepherds  fly, 
Brit  call  in  aid,  which  makes  a  bloody  fray. 
With  cruel  tournament  the  squadrons  join ; 
"Where  cattle  pastured  late,  now  scatter'd  lies 
With  carcasses  and  arms  the  ensanguined  field, 
Deserted.     Others  to  a  city  strong 
Lay  siege,  encamp'd ;  by  battery,  scale,  and  mine, 
Assaulting :  others  from  the  wall  defend  657 

With  dart  and  javelin,  stones  and  sulphurous  fire ; 
On  each  hand  slaughter  and  gigantic  deeds. 
In  other  part  the  scepter'd  heralds  call 
To  council  in  the  city  gates :  anon 
Gray-headed  men  and  grave,  with  warriors  mix'd, 
Assemble,  and  harangues  are  heard ;  but  soon 
In  factious  opposition  ;  till  at  last 
Of  middle  age  one  rising,  eminent 
In  wise  deport,  spake  much  of  right  and  wrong, 
Of  justice,  of  religion,  truth,  and  peace, 
And  judgment  from  above :  him  old  and  young          668 


280  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  |B.  xi 

Exploded,  and  had  seized  with  violent  hands, 
Had  not  a  cloud,  descending,  snatch' d  him  thence, 
Unseen  amid  the  throng :  so  violence 
Proceeded,  and  oppression,  and  sword-law, 
Through  all  the  plain,  and  refuge  none  was  found. 

Adain  was  all  in  tears,  and  to  his  guide, 
Lamenting,  turn'd  full  sad :  "  O  what  are  these  ? 
Death's  ministers,  not  men,  who  thus  deal  death 
Inhumanly  to  men,  and  multiply 

Ten  thousandfold  the  sin  of  him  who  slew  C78 

His  brother ;  for  of  whom  such  massacre 
Make  they  but  of  their  brethren,  men  of  men  ? 
But  who  was  that  just  man,  whom,  had  not  Heaven 
Rescued,  had  in  his  righteousness  been  lost  ?" 

To  whom  thus  Michael :  "  These  are  the  product 
Of  those  ill-mated  marriages  thou  saw'st ; 
Where  good  with  bad  were  matched,  who  of  themselves 
Abhor  to  join;  and,  by  imprudence  mix'd, 
Produce  prodigious  births  of  body  or  mind. 
Such  were  these  giants,  men  of  high  renown ; 
For  in  those  days  might  only  shall  be  admired,  689 

And  valor  and  heroic  virtue  call'd ; 
To  overcome  in  battle,  and  subdue 
Nations,  and  bring  home  spoils  with  infinite 
Man-slaughter,  shall  be  held  the  highest  pitch 
Of  human  glory,  and  for  glory  done 
Of  triumph,  to  be  styled  great  conquerors, 
Patrons  of  mankind,  gods,  and  sons  of  gods, 
Destroyers  rightlier  call'd  and  plagues  of  men. 
Thus  fame  shall  be  achieved,  renown  on  earth, 
And  what  most  merits  fame  in  silence  hid. 
But  he,  the  seventh  from  thee,  whom  thou  beheld'st  TOO 
The  only  righteous  in  a  world  perverse, 
And  therefore  hated,  therefore  so  beset 
With  foes,  for  daring  single  to  be  just, 
And  utter  odious  truth,  that  God  would  come 
To  judge  them  with  his  saints :  him  the  Most  High, 
Rapt  in  a  balmy  cloud,  with  winged  steeds 
Did,  as  thou  saw'st,  receive,  to  walk  with  God 
High  in  salvation  and  the  climes  of  bliss, 
Exempt  from  death,  to  show  thee  what  reward 
A  waits  the  good,  the  rest  what  punishment ; 
Which  now  direct  thine  eyes  and  soon  behold."          711 


B.  XI. J  PARADISE    LOST.  281 

He  look'd,  and  saw  the  face  of  things  quite  changed ; 
The  brazen  throat  of  war  had  ceased  to  roar  ; 
All  now  was  turn'd  to  jollity  and  game, 
To  luxury  and  riot,  feast  and  dance, 
Marrying  or  prostituting,  as  befell, 
Rape  or  adultery,  where  passing  fair 
Allured  them ;  thence  from  cups  to  civil  broils. 
At  length  a  reverend  sire  among  them  came, 
And  of  their  doings  great  dislike  declared, 
And  testified  against  their  ways :  he  oft  72! 

Frequented  their  assemblies,  whereso  met, 
Triumphs  or  festivals,  and  to  them  preach'd 
Conversion  and  repentance,  as  to  souls 
In  prison  under  judgments  imminent; 
But  all  in  vain :  which  when  he  saw,  he  ceased 
Contending,  and  removed  his  tents  far  off; 
Then  from  the  mountain  hewing  timber  tall, 
Began  to  build  a  vessel  of  huge  bulk, 
Measured  by  cubit,  length,  and  breadth,  and  height, 
Smear'd  round  with  pitch ;  and  in  the  side  a  door 
Contrived,  and  of  provisions  laid  in  large  732 

For  man  and  beast :  when,  lo,  a  wonder  strange ! 
Of  every  beast,  and  bird,  and  insect  small, 
Came  sevens,  and  pairs,  and  enter'd  in,  as  taught 
Their  order :  last  the  sire,  and  his  three  sons, 
With  their  four  wives :  and  God  made  fast  the  door. 
Meanwhile  the  south  wind  rose,  and  with  black  wings 
Wide  hovering,  all  the  clouds  together  drove 
From  under  Heaven ;  the  hills,  to  their  supply, 
Vapor  and  exhalation,  dusk  and  moist, 
Sent  up  amain.    And  now  the  thicken'd  sky, 
Like  a  dark  ceiling,  stood ;  down  rush'd  the  rain        743 
Impetuous,  and  continued  till  the  earth 
No  more  was  seen ;  the  floating  vessel  swum 
Uplifted,  and,  secure  with  beaked  prow, 
Rode  tilting  o'er  the  waves ;  all  dwellings  else 
Flood  overwhelmed,  and  them,  with  all  their  pomp, 
Beep  under  water  roll'd  ;  sea  cover' d  sea, 
Sea  without  shore ;  and  in  their  palaces, 
"Where  luxury  late  reign'd,  sea-monsters  whelp'd 
And  stabled :  of  mankind,  so  numerous  late, 
All  left,  in  one  small  bottom  swum  embark'd. 
How  didst  thou  grieve  then,  Adam,  to  behold  754 


282  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  xr 

The  end  of  all  thy  offspring,  end  so  sad, 
Depopulation !     Thee  another  flood, 
Of  tears  and  sorrow  a  flood,  thee  also  drown'd, 
And  sunk  thee  as  thy  sons ;  till,  gently  rear'd 
By  the  angel,  on  thy  feet  thou  stood'st  at  last, 
Though  comfortless,  as  when  a  father  mourns 
His  children,  all  in  view  destroyed  at  once ; 
And  scarce  to  the  angel  utter'dst  thus  thy  plaint  • 

"  O  visions  ill  foreseen !  better  had  I 
Lived  ignorant  of  future ;  so  had  borne  764 

My  part  of  evil  only,  each  day's  lot 
Enough  to  bear  :  those  now,  that  were  dispensed 
The  burden  of  many  ages,  on  me  light 
At  once,  by  my  foreknowledge  gaining  birth 
Abortive,  to  torment  me,  ere  their  being, 
With  thought  that  they  must  be.     Let  no  man  seek 
Henceforth  to  be  foretold  what  shall  befall 
Him  or  his  children ;  evil  he  may  be  sure, 
Which  neither  his  foreknowing  can  prevent ; 
And  he  the  future  evil  shall,  no  less 
In  apprehension  than  in  substance,  feel  775 

Grievous  to  bear.     But  that  care  now  is  past, 
Man  is  not  whom  to  warn ;  those  few  escaped, 
Famine  and  anguish  will  at  last  consume 
Wandering  that  watery  desert.     I  had  hope, 
When  violence  was  ceased,  and  war  on  earth, 
All  would  have  then  gone  well,  peace  would  have  crown'd 
With  length  of  happy  days  the  race  of  man : 
But  I  was  far  deceived ;  for  now  I  see 
Peace  to  corrupt  no  less  than  war  to  waste. 
How  comes  it  thus  ?  unfold,  celestial  guide, 
And  whether  here  the  race  of  men  will  end."  786 

To  whom  thus  Michael :  "  Those  whom  last  thou  saw  V, 
In  triumph  and  luxurious  wealth,  are  they 
First  seen  in  acts  of  prowess  eminent 
And  great  exploits,  but  of  true  virtue  void ; 
Who,  having  spilt  much  blood,  and  done  much  waste, 
Subduing  nations,  and  achieved  thereby 
Fame  in  the  world,  high  titles,  and  rich  prey, 
Shall  change  their  course  to  pleasure,  ease,  and  sloth, 
Surfeit  and  lust,  till  wantonness  and  pride 
Raise  out  of  friendship  hostile  deeds  in  peace. 
The  conquered  also,  and  enslaved  by  war,  797 


3.  XI.]  PARADISE    LOST.  283 

Shall  with  their  freedom  lost  all  virtue  lose     * 
And  fear  of  God,  from  whom  their  piety  feigu'd, 
In  sharp  contest  of  battle,  found  no  aid 
Against  invaders;  therefore,  cooPd  in  zeal, 
Thenceforth  shall  practice  how  to  live  secure, 
"Worldly  or  dissolute,  on  what  their  lords 
Shall  leave  them  to  enjoy;  for  the  earth  shall  bear 
More  than  enough,  that  temperance  may  be  tried  ; 
So  all  shall  turn  degenerate,  all  depraved, 
Justice  and  temperance,  truth  and  faith,  forgot;         807 
One  man  except,  the  only  son  of  light 
In  a  dark  age,  against  example  good, 
Against  allurement,  custom,  and  a  world 
Offended ;  fearless  of  reproach  and  scorn, 
Or  violence,  he  of  their  wicked  ways 
Shall  them  admonish,  and  before  them  set 
The  paths  of  righteousness,  how  much  more  safe, 
And  full  of  peace,  denouncing  wrath  to  come 
On  their  impenitence ;  and  shall  return 
Of  them  derided,  but  of  God  observed 
The  one  just  man  alive :  by  his  command  818 

Shall  build  a  wondrous  ark,  as  thou  beheld'st, 
To  save  himself  and  household  from  amidst 
A  world  devote  to  universal  wreck. 
No  sooner  he  with  them  of  man  and  beast 
Select  for  life  shall  in  the  ark  be  lodged, 
And  shelter'd  round,  but  all  the  cataracts 
Of  Heaven,  set  open  on  the  earth,  shall  pour 
Eain  day  and  night ;  all  fountains  of  the  deep 
Broke  up,  shall  heave  the  ocean  to  usurp 
Beyond  all  bounds,  till  inundation  rise 
Above  the  highest  hills:  then  shall  this  mount  82iJ 

Of  Paradise  by  might  of  waves  be  moved 
Out  of  his  place,  push'd  by  the  horned  flood, 
With  all  his  verdure  spoiled,  and  trees  adrift, 
Down  the  great  river  to  the  opening  gulf, 
And  there  take  root  an  island  salt  and  bare, 
The  haunt  of  seals,  and  ores,  and  sea-mews1  clang : 
To  teach  thee  that  God  attributes  to  place 
No  sanctity,  if  none  be  thither  brought 
By  men  who  there  frequent,  or  therein  dwelL 
And  now  what  further  shall  ensue,  behold." 
He  look'd,  and  saw  the  ark  hull  on  the  flood,          840 


284  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  XL 

Which  now  abated ;  for  the  clouds  were  fled, 

Driven  by  a  keen  north  wind,  that  blowing  dry, 

Wrinkled  the  face  of  deluge,  as  decay'd ; 

And  the  clear  sun  on  his  wide  watery  glass 

Gazed  hot,  and  of  the  fresh  wave  largely  drew,  . 

As  after  thirst,  which  made  their  flowing  shrink 

From  standing  lake  to  tripping  ebb,  that  stole 

With  soft  foot  towards  the  deep,  who  now  had  stopt 

His  sluices,  as  the  Heaven  his  windows  shut. 

The  ark  no  more  now  floats,  but  seems  on  ground,      850 

Fast  on  the  top  of  some  high  mountain  fix'd. 

And  now  the  tops  of  hills  as  rocks  appear ; 

With  clamor  thence  the  rapid  currents  drive 

Towards  the  retreating  sea  their  furious  tide. 

Forthwith  from  out  the  ark  a  raven  flies, 

And  after  him,  the  surer  messenger, 

A  dove  sent  forth,  once  and  again  to  spy 

Green  tree  or  ground  whereon  his  foot  may  ligiit; 

The  second  time  returning,  in  his  bill 

An  olive-leaf  he  brings,  pacific  sign : 

Anon  dry  ground  appears,  and  from  his  ark  861 

The  ancient  sire  descends  with  all  his  train ; 

Then  with  uplifted  hands,  and  eyes  devout, 

Grateful  to  Heaven,  over  his  head  beholds 

A  dewy  cloud,  and  in  the  cloud  a  bow 

Conspicuous  with  three  listed  colors  gay, 

Betokening  peace  from  God,  and  covenant  new. 

"Whereat  the  heart  of  Adam,  erst  so  sad, 

Greatly  rejoiced,  and  thus  his  joy  broke  forth : 

"  O  thou  who  future  things  canst  represent 
As  present,  heavenly  instructor,  I  revive 
At  this  last  sight,  assured  that  man  shall  live  872 

With  all  the  creatures,  and  their  seed  preserve. 
Far  less  I  now  lament  for  one  whole  world 
Of  wicked  sons  destroy'd,  than  I  rejoice 
For  one  man  found  so  perfect  and  so  just, 
That  God  vouchsafes  to  raise  another  world 
From  him,  and  all  his  anger  to  forget. 
But  say,  what  mean  those  color'd  streaks  in  Heaven 
Distended,  as  the  brow  of  God  appeased  ? 
Or  serve  they  as  a  flowery  verge  to  bind 
The  fluid  skirts  of  that  same  watery  cloud, 
Lest  it  again  dissolve  and  shower  the  earth?"  888 


6.  XI. J  PARADISE    LOST.  285 

To  whom,  the  archangel:  " Dexterously  thou  aim'st; 
So  willingly  doth  God  remit  his  ire, 
Though  late  repenting  him  of  man  depraved, 
Grieved  at  his  heart  when  looking  down  he  saw 
The  whole  earth  fllTd  with  violence,  and  all  flesh 
Corrupting  each  their  way ;  yet,  those  removed, 
•Such  grace  shall  one  just  man  find  in  his  sight, 
That  he  relents.,  not  to  blot  out  mankind, 
And  makes  a  covenant  never  to  destroy 
The  earth  again  by  flood,  nor  let  the  sea  803 

Surpass  his  bounds,  nor  rain  to  drown  the  world 
"With  man  therein  or  beast;  but  when  he  brings 
Over  the  earth  a  cloud,  will  therein  set 
His  triple-oolor'd  bow,  whereon  to  look, 
And  call  to  mind  his  covenant :  day  and  night, 
Seed-time  and  harvest,  heat  and  hoary  frost, 
Shall  hold  their  course,  till  fire  purge  all  things  new, 
0eay.en.and  earth,  wherein  the  just  shall  dwell." 


PARADISE    LOST. 


BOOK  XII. 

THE    ARGUMENT. 

The  angel  Michael  continues  from  the  flood  to  relate  what  shall  succeed  ;  then,  in 
the  mention  of  Abraham,  comes  by  degrees  to  explain  who  that  Seed  of  the  woman 
shall  be  which  was  promised  Adam  and  Eve  in  the  fall.  His  incarnation,  death, 
resurrection,  and  ascension  ;  the  state  of  the  church  till  his  second  coming.  Adam, 
greatly  satisfied  and  recomforted  by  these  relations  and  promises,  deecends  the 
hill  with  Michael ;  wakens  Eve,  who  all  this  while  had  slept,  but  with  gentle 
dreams  composed  to  quietness  of  mind  and  submission.  Michael  in  either  hand 
leads  them  out  of  Paradise,  the  fiery  swotd  waving  behind  them,  and  the  cherubim 
taking  their  stations  to  guard  the  place. 

As  one  who  in  his  journey  bates  at  noon, 

Though  bent  on  speed,  so  here  the  archangel  paused 

Betwixt  the  world  destroyed  and  world  restored, 

If  Adam  aught  perhaps  might  interpose ; 

Then  with  transition  sweet  new  speech  resumes : 

"  Thus  thou  hast  seen  one  world  begin  and  end ; 
And  man  as  from  a  second  stock  proceed. 
Much  thou  hast  yet  to  see,  but  I  perceive 
Thy  mortal  sight  to  fail ;  objects  divine 
Must  needs  impair  and  weary  human  sense. 
Henceforth  what  is  to  come  I  will  relate, 
Thou  therefore  give  due  audience,  and  attend.  12 

This  second  source  of  men,  while  yet  but  few, 
And  while  the  dread  of  judgment  past  remains 
Fresh  in  their  minds,  fearing  the  Deity, 
With  some  regard  to  what  is  just  and  right 
Shall  lead  their  lives,  and  multiply  apace, 
Laboring  the  soil,  and  reaping  plenteous  crop, 
Corn,  wine,  and  oil ;  and,  from  the  herd  or  flock 
Oft  sacrificing  bullock,  lamb,  or  kid, 
With  large  wine-offerings  pour'd,  and  sacred  feast, 
Shall  spend  their  days  in  joy  unblamed,  and  dwell 
Long  time  in  peace,  by  families  and  tribes,  2S 


C.  XII.]  PARADISE    LOST.  287 

Under  paternal  rule :  till  one  shall  rise 

Of  proud  ambitious  heart,  who,  not  concent 

With  fair  equality,  fraternal  state, 

Will  arrogate  dominion  undeserved 

Over  his  brethren,  and  quite  dispossess 

Concord  and  law  of  nature  from  the  earth, 

Hunting  (and  men,  not  beasts,  shall  be  his  game) 

With  war  and  hostile  snare  such  as  refuse 

Subjection  to  his  empire  tyrannous : 

A  mighty  hunter  thence  he  shall  be  styled  38 

Before  the  Lord,  as  in  despite  of  Heaven, 

Or  from  Heaven  claiming  second  sovereignty ; 

And  from  rebellion  shall  derive  his  name, 

Though  of  rebellion  others  he  accuse. 

He  with  a  crew,  whom  like  ambition  joins 

With  him  or  under  him  to  tyrannize, 

Marching  from  Eden  towards  the  west,  shall  find 

The  plain,  wherein  a  black  bituminous  gurge 

Boils  out  from  under  ground,  the  mouth  of  Hell : 

Of  brick,  and  of  that  stuff  they  cast  to  build 

A  city  and  tower,  whose  top  may  reach  to  Heaven ;     44 

And  get  themselves  a  name,  lest,  far  dispersed 

In  foreign  lands,  their  memory  be  lost, 

Regardless  whether  good  or  evil  fame. 

But  God,  who  oft  descends  to  visit  men 

Unseen,  and  through  their  habitations  walks 

To  mark  their  doings,  them  beholding  soon, 

Comes  down  to  see  their  city,  ere  the  tower 

Obstruct  Heaven-towers,  and  in  derision  sets 

Upon  their  tongues  a  various  spirit  to  rase 

Quite  out  their  native  language,  and  instead 

To  sow  a  jangling  noise  of  words  unknown.  55 

Forthwith  a  hideous  gabble  rises  loud 

Among  the  builders ;  each  to  other  calls 

Xot  understood,  till  hoarse,  and  all  in  rage, 

As  mock'd,  they  storm:  great  laughter  was  in  Heaven, 

And  looking  down,  to  see  the  hubbub  strange 

And  hear  the  din ;  thus  was  the  building  left 

Ridiculous,  and  the  work  Confusion  named." 

Whereto  thus  Adam,  fatherly  displeased : 
UO  execrable  son!  so  to  aspire 
Above  his  brethren,  to  himself  assuming 
Authority  usurp'd,  from  God  not  given :  66 


288  KTILTONrS    POETICAL    TTORK&.  [B.  XII, 

lie  gave  us  only  over  beast,  fish,  fowl, 
Dominion  absolute ;  that  right  we  hold 
By  his  donation ;  but  man  over  men 
]  fo  made  not  lord :  such  title  to-  himself 
LReserving,  human  left  from  human  free, 
But  this  usurper  his  encroachment  proud 
Stays  not  on  man ;  to  God  his  tower  intend* 
Siege  and  defiance.     Wretched  man !  what  food 
Will  he  convey  up  thither  to  sustain 
Himself  and  his  rash  army,  where  thin  air  7£ 

Above  the  clouds  will  pine  his  entrails  grossT 
And  famish  him  of  breath,  if  not  of  bread  ?" 

To  whom  thus  Michael :  "  Justly  thou  abhwir'st 
That  son,  who  on  the  quiet  state  of  men 
Such  trouble  brought,  affecting  to  subdue 
Rational  liberty ;  yet  know  withal, 
Since  thy  original  lapse,  true  liberty 
Is  losty  which  always  with  right  reason  dwells 
Twinn'dT  and  from  her  hath  no  dividual  being. 
Reason  in  man  obscured,  or  not  obey'dy 
Immediately  inordinate  desires  87 

And  upstart  passions  catch  the  government 
From  reason,  and  to  servitude  reduce 
Kan,  till  then  free.     Therefore,  since  he  permks 
Within  himself  unworthy  powers  to  reign 
Over  free  reasonr  God  in  judgment  just 
Subjects  him  from  without  to  violent  lords  -r 
Who  oft  as  undeservedly  enthrall 
His  outward  freedom :  tyranny  must  "be. 
Though  to  the  tyrant  thereby  no  excuse. 
Yet  sometimes  nations  will  decline  so  low 
From  virtue,  which  i'3  reason,,  that  no-  wrongr  9£ 

But  justice,  and  some  fatal  curse  annex'd, 
Deprives  them  of  their  outward  liberty, 
Their  inward  lost.    Witness  the  irreverent  son 
Of  him  who  built  the  ark,  who  for  the  shame 
Done  to  his  father  heard  this  heavy  curse, 
"  Servant  of  servants/'  on  Ms  vicious  irace. 
Thus  will  this  latter,  as  the  former  world, 
Still  tend  from  bad  to  worse,  till  God  at  last, 
Wearied  with  their  iniquities,  withdraw 
3is  presence  from  among  them,  and  avert 
His  holy  eyes ;  resolving  from  thenceforth  109 


D.  XII.]  PARADISE    LOST.  289 

To  leave  them  to  their  own  polluted  ways ; 
And  one  peculiar  nation  to  select 
From  all  the  rest,  of  whom  to  be  invoked, 
A  nation  from  one  faithful  man  to  spring  • 
Him  on  this  side  Euphrates  yet  residing, 
Bred  up  in  idol-worship.     O  that  men 
(Canst  thou  believe?)  should  be  so  stupid  grown, 
While  yet  the  patriarch  lived  who  'scaped  the  flood, 
As  to  forsake  the  living  God,  and  fall 
To  worship  their  own  work  in  wood  and  stone  119 

For  gods !     Yet  him  God  the  most  high  vouchsafes 
To  call  by  vision  from  his  father's  house, 
His  kindred  and  false  gods,  into  a  land 
Which  he  will  show  him,  and  from  him  will  raisr* 
A  mighty  nation,  and  upon  him  shower 
His  benediction  so,  that  in  his  seed 
All  nations  shall  be  blest :  he  straight  obeys, 
Not  knowing  to  what  land,  yet  firm  believes. 
I  see  him,  but  thou  canst  not,  with  what  faith 
He  leaves  his  gods,  his  friends,  and  native  soil, 
Ur  of  Chaldsea,  passing  now  the  ford  1 30 

To  Haran ;  after  him  a  cumbrous  train 
Of  herds  and  flocks,  and  numerous  servitude ; 
Not  wandering  poor,  but  trusting  all  his  wealth 
With  God,  who  call'd  him,  in  a  land  unknown. 
Canaan  he  now  attains :  I  see  his  tents 
Pitch'd  about  Sichem,  and  the  neighboring  plain 
Of  Moreh ;  there  by  promise  he  receives 
Gift  to  his  progeny  of  all  that  land, 
From  Hamath  northward  to  the  desert  south, 
(Things  by  their  names  I  call,  though  yet  unnamed,) 
From  Hermon  east  to  the  great  western  sea —  141 

Mount  Hermon,  yonder  sea,  each  place  behold 
In  prospect,  as  I  point  them ;  on  the  shore 
Mount  Carmel ;  here  the  double-founted  stream 
Jordan,  true  limit  eastward ;  but  his  sons 
Shall  dwell  to  Senir,  that  long  ridge  of  hills. 
This  ponder,  that  all  nations  of  the  earth 
Shall  in  his  seed  be  blessed :  by  that  seed 
Is  meant  thy  great  Deliverer,  who  shall  bruise 
The  serpent's  head ;  whereof  to  thee  anon 
Plainlier  shall  be  reveal'd.     This  patriarch  blest, 
Whom  faithful  Abraham  due  time  shall  call,  152 

25 


290  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  xn 

A  son,  and  of  his  son  a  grandchild,  leaves, 

Like  him  in  faith,  in  wisdom,  and  renown ; 

The  grandchild,  with  twelve  sons  increased,  departs 

From  Canaan,  to  a  land  hereafter  call'd 

Egypt,  divided  by  the  river  Nile  : 

See  where  it  flows,  disgorging  at  seven  mouths 

Into  the  sea.     To  sojourn  in  that  land 

He  comes,  invited  by  a  younger  son 

[n  time  of  dearth,  a  son  whose  worthy  deeds 

.Raise  him  to  be  the  second  in  that  realm  102 

Of  Pharaoh:  there  he  dies,  and  leaves  his  race 

Growing  into  a  nation,  and  now  grown 

Suspected  to  a  sequent  king,  who  seeks 

To  stop  their  overgrowth,  as  inmate  guests 

Too  numerous ;  whence  of  guests  he  makes  them  slaves 

Inhospitably,  and  kills  their  infant  males : 

Till,  by  two  brethren  (these  two  brethren  call 

Moses  and  Aaron)  sent  from  God  to  claim 

His  people  from  enthralment,  they  return, 

With  glory  and  spoil,  back  to  their  promised  land. 

But,  first,  the  lawless  tyrant,  who  denies  173 

To  know  their  God,  or  message  to  regard, 

Must  be  compell'd  by  signs  and  judgments  dire ; 

To  blood  unshed  the  rivers  must  be  turn'd ; 

Frogs,  lice,  and  flies  must  all  his  palace  fill 

With  loathed  intrusion,  and  fill  all  the  land ; 

His  "cattle  must  of  rot  and  murrain  die ; 

Botches  and  blains  must  all  his  flesh  emboss, 

And  all  his  people ;  thunder  mix'd  with  hail, 

Hail  mix'd  with  fire,  must  rend  the  Egyptian  sky, 

And  wheel  on  the  earth,  devouring  where  it  rolls  • 

What  it  devours  not,  herb,  or  fruit,  or  grain,  184 

A  darksome  cloud  of  locusts,  swarming  down, 

Must  eat,  and  on  the  ground  leave  nothing  green : 

Darkness  must  overshadow  all  his  bounds, 

Palpable  darkness,  and  blot  out  three  days ; 

Last,  with  one  midnight  stroke,  all  the  first-born 

Of  Egypt  must  lie  dead.    Thus,  with  ten  wounds, 

The  river-dragon,  tamed,  at  length  submits 

To  let  his  sojourners  depart,  and  oft 

Humbles  his  stubborn  heart ;  but  still  as  ice 

More  harden'd  after  thaw,  till,  in  his  rage, 

Pursuing  whom  he  late  dismiss'd,  the  sea  195 


B.  XII.J  PARADISE    LCST.  291 

Swallows  him  with  his  host,  but  them  lets  pass, 
As  on  dry  land,  between  two  crystal  walls, 
Awed  by  the  rod  of  Moses  so  to  stand 
Divided,  till  his  rescued  gain  their  shore. 
Such  wondrous  power  God  to  his  saint  will  lend, 
Though  present  in  his  angel,  who  shall  go 
Before  them  in  a  cloud  and  pillar  of  fire, 
(By  day  a  cloud,  by  night  a  pillar  of  fire,) 
To  guide  them  in  their  journey,  and  remove 
Behind  them,  while  the  obdurate  king  pursues. 
All  night  he  will  pursue,  but  his  approach 
Darkness  defends  between  till  morning  watch ; 
Then,  through  the  fiery  pillar  and  the  cloud, 
God,  looking  forth,  will  trouble  all  his  host, 
And  craze  their  chariot- wheels :  when,  by  command, 
Moses  once  more  his  potent  rod  extends 
Over  the  sea  ;  the  sea  his  rod  obeys ; 
On  their  embattled  ranks  the  waves  return, 
And  overwhelm  their  war.     The  race  elect 
Safe  towards  Canaan  from  the  shore  advance 
Through  the  wild  desert ;  not  the  readiest  way,         216 
Lest,  entering  on  the  Canaanite  alarm'd, 
"War  terrify  them  inexpert,  and  fear 
Return  them  back  to  Egypt,  choosing  rather 
Inglorious  life  with  servitude ;  for  life 
To  noble  and  ignoble  is  more  sweet  - 
Untrain'd  in  arms,  where  rashness  leads  not  on. 
This  also  shall  they  gain  by  their  delay 
In  the  wide  wilderness ;  there  they  shall  found 
.  Their  government,  and  their  great  senate  choose 
Through  the  twelve  tribes,  to  rule  by  laws  ordain* d. 
God  from  the  mount  of  Sinai  (whose  gray  top  227 

Shall  tremble,  he  descending)  will  himself, 
In  thunder,  lightning,  and  loud  trumpets'  sound, 
Ordain  them  laws ;  part,  such  as  appertain 
To  civil  justice — part,  religious  rites 
Of  sacrifice,  informing  them,  by  types 
And  shadows,  of  that  destined  Seed  to  bruise 
The  serpent,  by  what  means  he  shall  achieve 
Mankind's  deliverance.     But  the  voice  of  God 
To  mortal  ear  is  dreadful ;  they  beseech 
That  Moses  might  report  to  them  his  will, 
And  terror  cease :  he  grants  what  they  besought,      238 


292  MILTON'S  POEYICAL  WORKS.  'B.  xu. 

^tructed  that  to  God  is  no  access 
Without  mediator,  whose  high  oflSce  now 
Moses  in  figure  bears,  to  introduce 
One  greater,  of  whose  day  he  shall  foretell, 
And  all  the  prophets  in  their  age  the  times 
Of  great  Messiah  shall  sing.     Thus  laws  and  rites 
Establish'd,  such  delight  hath  God  in  men, 
Obedient  to  his  will,  that  he  vouchsafes 
Among  them  to  set  up  his  tabernacle, 
The  Holy  One  with  mortal  men  to  dwell.  248 

By  his  prescript  a  sanctuary  is  framed 
Of  cedar,  overlaid  with  gold ;  therein 
An  ark,  and  in  the  ark  his  testimony, 
The  records  of  his  covenant ;  over  these 
A  mercy-seat  of  gold,  between  the  wings 
Of  two  bright  cherubim ;  before  him  burn 
Seven  lamps,  as  in  a  zodiac,  representing 
The  heavenly  fires ;  over  the  tent  a  cloud 
Shall  rest  by  day,  a  fiery  gleam  by  night, 
Save  when  they  journey :  and  at  length  they  come, 
Conducted  by  his  angel,  to  the  land  259 

Promised  to  Abraham  and  his  seed.     The  rest 
Were  long  to  tell,  how  many  battles  fought, 
How  many  kings  destroy'd,  and  kingdoms  won, 
Or  how  the  sun  shall  in  mid  Heaven  stand  still 
A  day  entire,  and  night's  due  course  adjourn, 
Man's  voice  commanding,  '  Sun,  in  Gibeon  stand, 
And  thou,  moon,  in  the  vale  of  Aijalon, 
Till  Israel  overcome!'  so  call'd  the  third 
From  Abraham,  son  of  Isaac,  and  from  him 
His  whole  descent,  who  thus  shall  Canaan  win." 

Here  Adam  interposed :  "  0  sent  from  Heaven,      270 
Enlightener  of  my  darkness,  gracious  things 
Thou  hast  reveal'd,  those  chiefly  which  concern 
Just  Abraham  and  his  seed :  now  first  I  find 
Mine  eyes  true  opening,  and  my  heart  much  eased, 
Erewhile  perplex'd  with  thoughts  what  would  become 
Of  me  and  all  mankind ;  but  now  I  see 
His  day,  in  whom  all  nations  shall  be  blest, 
Favor  unmerited  by  me,  who  sought 
Forbidden  knowledge  by  forbidden  means. 
This  yet  I  apprehend  not,  why  to  those 
Among  whom  God  will  deign  to  dwell  on  earth,         281 


B.  XII.J  PARADISE    LOST.  293 

So  many  and  so  various  laws  are  given : 

So  many  laws  argue  so  many  sins 

Among  them ;  how  can  God  with  such  reside  ?" 

To  whom  thus  Michael :  "Doubt  not  but  that  sin 
Will  reign  among  them,  as  of  thee  begot ; 
And  therefore  was  law  given  them  to  evince 
Their  natural  pravity,  by  stirring  up 
Sin  against  law  to  fight :  that  when  they  see 
Law  can  discover  sin,  but  not  remove, 
Save  by  those  shadowy  expiations  weak,  291 

The  blood  of  bulls  and  goats,  they  may  conclude 
Some  blood  more  precious  must  be  paid  for  man. 
Just  for  unjust,  that  in  such  righteousness, 
To  them  by  faith  imputed,  they  may  find 
Justification  towards  God,  and  peace 
Of  conscience,  which  the  law  by  ceremonies 
Cannot  appease,  nor  man  the  moral  part 
Perform ;  and,  not  performing,  cannot  live. 
So  law  appears  imperfect,  and  but  given 
With  purpose  to  resign  them  in  full  time 
Up  to  a  better  covenant ;  disciplined  302 

From  shadowy  types  to  truth,  from  flesh  to  spirit, 
From  imposition  of  strict  laws  to  free 
Acceptance  of  large  grace,  from  servile  fear 
To  filial,  works  of  law  to  works  of  faith. 
And  therefore  shall  not  Moses,  though  of  God 
Highly  beloved,  being  but  the  minister 
Of  law,  his  people  into  Canaan  lead ; 
But  Joshua,  whom  the  Gentiles  Jesus  call, 
His  name  and  office  bearing,  who  shall  quell 
The  adversary  serpent,  and  bring  back, 
Through  the  world's  wilderness,  long  wander 'd  man  Jjiy 
Safe  to  eternal  Paradise  of  rest. 
Meanwhile  they,  in  their  earthly  Canaan  placed, 
Long  time  shall  dwell  and  prosper ;  but  when  sins 
National  interrupt  their  public  peace, 
Provoking  God  to  raise  them  enemies ; 
From  whom  as  oft  he  saves  them  penitent, 
By  judges  first,  then  under  kings ;  of  whom 
The  second,  both  for  piety  renown'd, 
And  puissant  deeds,  a  promise  shall  receive 
Irrevocable,  that  his  regal  throne 
Forever  shall  endure ;  the  like  shall  sing  824 


C04  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  xii 

All  prophecy,  tnat  of  tne  royal  stock 

Of  David  (so  I  name  this  king)  shall  rise 

A  Son,  the  woman's  seed  to  thee  foretold, 

Foretold  to  Abraham,  as  in  whom,  shall  trust 

All  nations ;  and  to  kings  foretold,  of  kings 

The  last,  for  of  his  reign  shall  be  no  end. 

But  first  a  long  succession  must  ensue, 

And  his  next  son,  for  wealth  and  wisdom  famed, 

The  clouded  ark  of  God,  till  then  in  tents 

"Wandering,  shall  in  a  glorious  temple  inshrine. 

Such  follow  him  as  shall  be  registered,  335 

Part  good,  part  bad,  of  bad  the  longer  scroll, 

Whose  foul  idolatries,  and  other  faults, 

Heap'd  to  the  popular  sum,  will  so  incense 

God,  as  to  leave  them,  and  expose  their  land, 

Their  city,  his  temple,  and  his  holy  ark, 

"With  all  his  sacred  things,  a  scorn  and  prey 

To  that  proud  city,  whose  high  walls  thou  saw'st 

Left  in  confusion,  Babylon  thence  call'd. 

There  in  captivity  he  lets  them  dwell 

The  space  of  seventy  years ;  then  brings  them  back,    345 

Remembering  mercy,  and  his  covenant  sworn 

To  David,  'stablish'd  as  the  days  of  Heaven. 

Return'd  from  Babylon,  by  leave  of  kings 

Their  lords,  whom  God  disposed,  the  house  of  God 

They  first  re-edify,  and  for  a  while 

In  mean  estate  live  moderate,  till,  grown 

In  wealth  and  multitude,  factious  they  grow ; 

But  first  among  the  priests  dissension  springs, 

Men  who  attend  the  altar,  and  should  most 

Endeavor  peace :  their  strife  pollution  brings 

Upon  the  temple  itself:  at  last  they  seize  856 

The  sceptre,  and  regard  not  David's  sons, 

Then  lose  it  to  a  stranger,  that  the  true 

Anointed  King,  Messiah,  might  be  born 

Barr'd  of  his  right ;  yet  at  his  birth  a  star, 

Unseen  before  in  Heaven,  proclaims  him  come, 

And  guides  the  eastern  sages,  who  inquire 

His  place,  to  offer  incense,  myrrh,  and  geld ; 

Ilis  place  of  birth  a  solemn  angel  tells 

To  simple  shepherds,  keeping  watch  by  night ; 

They  gladly  thither  haste,  and  by  a  quire 

Of  squadroned  angels  hear  his  carol  sung.  867 


3.  XII.]  PARADISE    LOST.  295 

A  virgin  is  his  mother,  but  his  sire 

The  power  of  the  Most  High ;  he  shall  ascend 

The  throne  hereditary,  and  bound  his  reign 

With  earth's  wide  bounds,  his  glory  with  the  Heave -us." 

He  ceased,  discerning  Adam  with  such  joy 
Surcharged,  as  had  like  grief  been  dew'd  in  tears, 
Without  the  vent  of  words,  which  these  he  breathed : 

"  0  prophet  of  glad  tidings,  finisher 
Of  utmost  hope !  now  clear  I  understand 
What  oft  my  steadiest  thoughts  have  searched  in  vain ; 
Why  our  great  expectation  should  be  call'd  378 

The  seed  of  woman.     Virgin  Mother,  hail, 
High  in  the  love  of  Heaven,  yet  from  my  loins 
Thou  shalt  proceed,  and  from  thy  womb  the  Son 
Of  God  most  high ;  so  God  with  man  unites. 
Needs  must  the  serpent  now  his  capital  bruise 
Expect  with  mortal  pain :  say  where  and  when 
Their  fight,  what  stroke  shall  bruise  the  victor's  heel!" 

To  whom  thus  Michael :  "  Dream  not  of  their  fight 
As  of  a  duel,  or  the  local  wounds 

Of  head  or  heel :  not  therefore  joins  the  Son  388 

Manhood  to  Godhead,  with  more  strength  to  foil 
Thy  enemy ;  nor  so  is  overcome 
Satan,  whose  fall  from  Heaven,  a  deadlier  bruise, 
Disabled  not  to  give  thee  thy  death's  wound : 
Which  he,  who  comes  thy  Saviour,  shall  recure, 
Not  by  destroying  Satan,  but  his  works 
In  thee  and  in  thy  seed.     Nor  can  this  be, 
But  by  fulfilling  that  which  thou  didst  want, 
Obedience  to  the  law  of  God,  imposed 
On  penalty  of  death,  and  suffering  death, 
The  penalty  to  thy  transgression  due,  399 

And  due  to  theirs  which  out  of  thine  will  grow ; 
So  only  can  high  justice  rest  appaid. 
The  law  of  God  exact  he  shall  fulfil 
Both  by  obedience  and  by  love,  though  love 
Alone  fulfil  the  law ;  thy  punishment 
He  shall  endure  by  coming  in  the  flesh 
To  a  reproachful  life  and  cursed  death, 
Proclaiming  life  to  all  who  shall  believe 
In  his  redemption,  and  that  his  obedience 
Imputed  becomes  theirs  by  faith,  his  merits 
To  save  them,  not  their  own,  though  legal,  works.     41 C 


296  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  xii 

For  this  be  shall  live  hated,  be  blasphemed, 

Seized  on  by  iorce,  judged,  and  to  death  condemn^ 

A  shameful  and  accursed,  naiPd  to  the  cross 

By  his  own  nation,  slain  for  bringing  life : 

But  to  the  cross  he  nails  thy  enemies, 

The  law  that  is  against  thee,  and  the  sins 

Of  all  mankind,  with  him  there  crucified, 

Never  to  hurt  them  more  who  rightly  trust 

In  this  his  satisfaction :  so  he  dies, 

But  soon  revives ;  death  over  him  no  power  42C 

Shall  long  usurp ;  ere  the  third  dawning  light 

Return,  the  stars  of  morn  shall  see  him  rise 

Out  of  his  grave,  fresh  as  the  dawning  light, 

Thy  ransom  paid,  which  man  from  death  redeems. 

His  death  for  man,  as  many  as  offer'd  life 

Neglect  not,  and  the  benefit  embrace 

By  faith  not  void  of  works.    This  godlike  act 

Annuls  thy  doom,  the  death  thou  shouldst  have  died, 

In  sin  forever  lost  from  life ;  this  act 

Shall  bruise  the  head  of  Satan,  crush  his  strength, 

Defeating  sin  and  death,  his  two  main  arms,  481 

And  fix  far  deeper  in  his  head  their  stings 

Than  temporal  death  shall  bruise  the  victor's  heel. 

Or  theirs  whom  he  redeems,  a  death-like  sleep, 

A  gentle  wafting  to  immortal  life. 

Nor  after  resurrection  shall  he  stay 

Longer  on  earth  than  certain  times  to  appear 

To  his  disciples,  men  who  in  his  life 

Still  followed  him ;  to  them  shall  leave  in  charge 

To  teach  all  nations  what  of  him  they  learn'd 

And  his  salvation,  them  who  shall  believe 

Baptizing  in  the  profluent  stream,  the  sign 

Of  washing  them  from  guilt  of  sin  to  life  443 

Pure,  and  in  mind  prepared,  if  so  befall, 

For  death,  like  that  which  the  Redeemer  died. 

All  nations  they  shall  teach  ;  for  from  that  day 

Not  only  to  the  sons  of  Abraham's  loins 

Salvation  shall  be  preach'd,  but  to  the  sons 

Of  Abraham's  faith  wherever  through  the  world ; 

So  in  his  seed  all  nations  shall  be  blest. 

Then  to  the  Heaven  of  Heavens  he  shall  ascend 

"With  victory,  triumphing  through  the  air 

Over  his  foes  and  thine;  there  shall  surprise    .  453 


B.  XII.]  PARADISE    LOST.  297 

The  serpeut,  prince  of  air,  and  drag  in  chains 

Through  all  his  realm,  and  there  confounded  leave ; 

Then  enter  into  glory,  and  resume 

His  seat  at  God's  right  hand,  exalted  high 

Above  all  names  in  Heaven ;  and  thence  shall  come, 

When  this  world's  dissolution  shall  he  ripe, 

With  glory  and  power  to  judge  both  quick  and  dead, 

To  judge  the  unfaithful  dead,  but  to  reward 

His  faithful,  and  receive  them  into  bliss, 

Whether  in  Heaven  or  earth ;  for  then  the  earth        468 

Shall  all  be  Paradise,  far  happier  place 

Than  this  of  Eden,  and  far  happier  days." 

So  spake  the  archangel  Michael ;  then  paused, 
As  at  the  world's  great  period ;  and  our  sire, 
Replete  with  joy  and  wonder,  thus  replied : 

"  0  goodness  infinite,  goodness  immense ! 
That  all  this  good  of  evil  shall  produce, 
And  evil  turn  to  good ;  more  wonderful 
Than  that  which  by  creation  first  brought  forth 
Light  out  of  darkness.     Full  of  doubt  I  stand, 
Whether  I  should  repent  me  now  of  sin  474 

By  me  done  and  occasion'd,  or  rejoice 
Much  more,  that  much  more  good  thereof  shall  spring  ; 
To  God  more  glory,  more  good- will  to  men 
From  God,  and  over  wrath  grace  shall  abound. 
But  say,  if  our  Deliverer  up  to  Heaven 
Must  reascend,  what  will  betide  the  few 
His  faithful,  left  among  the  unfaithful  herd, 
The  enemies  of  truth  ?    Who  then  shall  guide 
His  people,  who  defend  ?    Will  they  not  deal 
Worse  with  his  followers  than  with  him  they  dealt  ?" 

"  Be  sure  they  will,"  said  the  angel ;  "  but  from  Heaven 
He  to  his  own  a  Comforter  will  send,  486 

The  promise  of  the  Father,  who  shall  dwell 
His  Spirit  within  them,  and  the  law  of  faith, 
Working  through  love,  upon  their  hearts  shall  write, 
To  guide  them  in  all  truth,  and  also  arm 
With  spiritual  armor,  able  to  resist 
Satan's  assaults,  and  quench  his  fiery  darts  ; 
What  man  can  do  against  them,  not  afraid, 
Though  to  the  death,  against  such  cruelties 
With  inward  consolations  recompensed, 
And  oft  supported  so  as  shall  amaze  496 


298  MILTON  S    POETICAL    WORKS.  [B.  XII 

Their  proudest  persecutors :  for  the  Spirit 

Pour'd  first  on  his  apostles,  whom  he  sends 

To  evangelize  the  nations,  then  on  all 

Baptized,  shall  them  with  wondrous  gifts  endue 

To  speak  all  tongues,  and  do  all  miracles, 

As  did  their  Lord  before  them.    Thus  they  win 

Great  numbers  of  each  nation  to  receive 

"With  joy  the  tidings  brought  from  Heaven :  at  length, 

Their  ministry  performed,  and  race  well  run, 

Their  doctrine  and  their  story  written  left,  506 

They  die ;  but  in  their  room,  as  they  forewarn, 

Wolves  shall  succeed  for  teachers,  grievous  wolves, 

"Who  all  the  sacred  mysteries  of  Heaven 

To  their  own  vile  advantages  shall  turn 

Of  lucre  and  ambition,  and  the  truth 

"With  superstitions  and  traditions  taint, 

Left  only  in  those  written  records  pure, 

Though  not  but  by  the  Spirit  understood. 

Then  shall  they  seek  to  avail  themselves  of  names, 

Places,  and  titles,  and  with  these  to  join 

Secular  power,  though  feigning  still  to  act  517 

By  spiritual,  to  themselves  appropriating 

The  Spirit  of  God,  promised  alike  and  given 

To  all  believers ;  and  from  that  pretence, 

Spiritual  laws  by  carnal  power  shall  force 

On  every  conscience ;  laws  which  none  shall  find 

Left  them  enrolled,  or  what  the  Spirit  within 

Shall  on  the  heart  engrave.    "What  will  they  then 

But  force  the  Spirit  of  grace  itself,  and  bind 

His  consort  liberty  ?  what,  but  unbuild 

His  living  temples,  built  by  faith  to  stand, 

Their  own  faith,  not  another's?  for  on  earth  528 

"Who  against  faith  and  conscience  can  be  heard 

Infallible  ?  Yet  many  will  presume : 

"Whence  heavy  persecution  shall  arise 

On  all  who  in  the  worship  persevere 

Of  spirit  and  truth ;  the  rest,  far  greater  part, 

"Will  deem  in  outward  rites  and  specious  forms 

Religion  satisfied ;  truth  shall  retire 

Bestruck  with  slanderous  darts,  and  works  of  faith 

Rarely  be  found :  so  shall  the  world  go  on, 

To  good  malignant,  to  bad  men  benign, 

Under  her  own  weight  groaning,  till  the  day  539 


B.  XII.]  PARADISE   LOST.  299 

Appear  of  respiration  to  the  just, 

And  vengeance  to  the  wicked,  at  return 

Of  him  so  lately  promised  to.  thy  aid, 

The  woman's  seed  obscurely  then  foretold, 

Now  amplier  known  thy  Saviour  and  thy  Lord, 

Last  in  the  clouds  from  Heaven  to  be  reveal'd 

In  glory  of  the  Father,  to  dissolve 

Satan  with  his  perverted  world,  then  raise 

From  the  conflagrant  mass,  purged  and  refined, 

New  heavens,  new  earth,  ages  of  endless  date,  549 

Founded  in  righteousness,  and  peace,  and  love, 

To  bring  forth  fruits,  joy  and  eternal  bliss." 

He  ended ;  and  thus  Adam  last  replied : 
"  How  soon  hath  thy  prediction,  seer  blest, 
Measured  this  transient  world,  the  race  of  time, 
Till  time  stand  fix'd  I    Beyond  is  all  abyss, 
Eternity,  whose  end  no  eye  can  reach. 
Greatly  instructed,  I  shall  hence  depart, 
Greatly  in  peace  of  thought,  and  have  my  fill 
Of  knowledge,  what  this  vessel  can  contain ; 
Bevond  which  was  my  folly  to  aspire.  560 

Henceforth  I  learn  that  to  obey  is  best, 
And  love  with  fear  the  only  God,  to  walk 
As  in  his  presence,  ever  to  observe 
His  providence,  and  on  him  sole  depend, 
Merciful  over  all  his  works,  with  good 
Still  overcoming  evil,  and  by  small 
Accomplishing  great  things,  by  things  deem'd  weak 
Subverting  worldly  strong,  and  worldly  wise 
By  simply  meek  ;  that  suffering  for  truth's  sake 
Is  fortitude  to  highest  victory, 

And  to  the  faithful  death  the  gate  of  life :  571 

Taught  this  by  his  example,  whom  I  now 
Acknowledge  my  Redeemer  ever  blest." 

To  whom  thus  also  the  angel  last  replied : 
"  This  having  learn'd,  thou  hast  attain'd  the  sum 
Of  wisdom  :  hope  no  higher,  though  all  the  stars 
Thou  know'st  by  name,  and  all  the  ethereal  powers, 
All  secrets  of  the  deep,  all  nature's  works, 
Or  works  of  God  in  Heaven,  air,  earth,  or  sea, 
And  all  the  riches  of  this  world  enjoy'dst, 
And  all  the  rule,  one  empire ;  only  add 
Deeds  to  thy  knowledge  answerable ;  add  faith,          582 


800  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  xn. 

Add  virtue,  patience,  temperance ;  add  love, 

By  name  to  come  calTd  charity,  the  soul 

Of  all  the  rest :  then  wilt  thou  not  be  loth 

To  leave  this  Paradise,  but  shalt  possess 

A  Paradise  within  thee,  happier  far. 

Let  us  descend  now  therefore  from  this  top 

Of  speculation ;  for  the  hour  precise 

Exacts  our  parting  hence ;  and  see,  the  guards, 

By  me  encamped  on  yonder  hill,  expect 

Their  motion,  at  whose  front  a  flaming  sword,  592 

In  signal  of  remove,  waves  fiercely  round : 

We  may  no  longer  stay.    Go,  waken  Eve ; 

Her  also  I  with  gentle  dreams  have  calm'd 

Portending  good,  and  all  her  spirits  composed 

To  meek  submission :  thou  at  season  fit 

Let  her  with  thee  partake  what  thou  hast  heard, 

Chiefly  what  may  concern  her  faith  to  know, 

The  great  deliverance  by  her  seed  to  come 

(For  by  the  woman's  seed)  on  all  mankind ; 

That  ye  may  live,  which  will  be  many  days, 

Both  in  one  faith  unanimous,  though  sad,  603 

With  cause  for  evils  past,  yet  much  more  cheer'd 

With  meditation  on  the  happy  end." 

He  ended,  and  they  both  descend  the  hill ; 
Descended,  Adam  to  the  bower  where  Eve 
Lay  sleeping  ran  before,  but  found  her  waked ; 
And  thus  with  words  not  sad  she  him  received : 

"  Whence  thou  return'st,  and  whither  went'st,  I  know ; 
For  God  is  also  in  sleep ;  and  dreams  advise, 
Which  he  hath  sent  propitious,  some  great  good 
Presaging,  since,  with  sorrow  and  heart's  distress 
Wearied,  I  fell  asleep:  but  now  lead  on ;  614 

In  me  is  no  delay ;  with  thee  to  go 
Is  to  stay  here ;  without  thee  here  to  stay, 
Is  to  go  hence  unwilling ;  thou  to  me 
Art  all  things  under  Heaven,  all  places  thon, 
Who  for  my  wilful  crime  art  banish'd  hence. 
This  further  consolation,  yet  secure, 
I  carry  hence ;  though  all  by  me  is  lost, 
Such  favor  I  unworthy  am  vouchsafed, 
By  me  the  promised  Seed  shall  all  restore."  - 1 

So  spake  our  mother  Eve,  and  Adam  heard 
Well  pleased,  but  answer'd  not ;  for  now  too  nigh      625 


B.  XII.J  PARADISE    LOST.  301 

The  archangel  stood,  and  from  the  other  hill 
To  their  fix'd  station,  all  in  bright  array, 
The  cherubim  descended ;  on  the  ground 
Gliding  meteorous,  as  evening  mist 
Risen  from  a  river  o'er  the  marish  glides, 
And  gathers  ground  fast  at  the  laborer's  heel, 
Homeward  returning.     High  in  front  advanced, 
The  brandish'd  sword  of  God  before  them  blazed 
Fierce  as  a  comet ;  which  with  torrid  heat, 
And  vapor  as  the  Libyan  air  adust,  635 

Began  to  parch  that  temperate  clime ;  whereat, 
In  either  hand  the  hastening  angel  caught 
Our  lingering  parents,  and  to  the  eastern  gate 
Led  them  direct,  and  down  the  cliff  as  fast 
To  the  subjected  plain ;  then  disappear'd. 
They,  looking  back,  all  the  eastern  side  beheld 
Of  Paradise,  so  late  their  happy  seat, 
Waved  over  by  that  flaming  brand,  the  gate 
With  dreadful  faces  throng'd  and  fiery  arms. 
Some  natural  tears  they  dropt,  but  wiped  them  soon  • 
The  world  was  all  before  them,  where  to  choose        646 
Their  place  of  rest,-  and  Providence  their  guide. 
They,  hand  in  hand,  with  wandering  steps  and  slow, 
Through  Eden  took  their  solitary  way. 

26 


PARADISE   REGAINED. 


PARADISE    REGAINED. 


BOOK  I. 

I,  WHO  erewlrile  the  happy  garden  sung, 
By  one  man's  disobedience  lost,  now  sing 
Kecover'd  Paradise  to  all  mankind, 
By  one  Man's  firm  obedience,  fully  tried 
Through  all  temptation,  and  the  tempter  foiFd 
In  all  his  wiles,  defeated  and  repulsed, 
And  Eden  raised  in  the  waste  wilderness. 

Thou  Spirit,  who  ledst  this  glorious  eremite 
Into  the  desert,  his  victorious  field,  9 

Against  the  spiritual  foe,  and  brought'st  him  thence, 
By  proof  the  undoubted  Son  of  God,  inspire, 
As  thou  art  wont,  niy  prompted  song,  else  mute ; 
And  bear  through  height  or  depth  of  nature's  bpunds 
With  prosperous  wing  full  summ'd,  to  tell  of  deeds 
Above  heroic,  though  in  secret  done, 
And  unrecorded  left  through  many  an  age ; 
Worthy  to  have  not  remain'd  so  long  unsung. 

Now  had  the  great  Proclaimer,  with  a  voice 
More  awful  than  the  sound  of  trumpet,  cried 
Eepentance,  and  Heaven's  kingdom  nigh  at  hand,        20 
To  all  baptized :  to  his  great  baptism  flock'd, 
With  awe,  the  regions  round,  and  with  them  came 
From  Nazareth  the  Son  of  Joseph  deem'd 
To  the  flood  Jordan, — came  as  then  obscure, 
Unmark'd,  unknown ;  but  him  the  Baptist  soon 
Descried,  divinely  warn'd,  and  witness  bore 
As  to  his  worthier,  and  would  have  resign'd 
To  him  his  heavenly  office,  nor  was  long 
His  witness  unconfirm'd :  on  him  baptized 
Heaven  open'd,  and,  in  likeness  of  a  dove, 
The  Spirit  descended,  while  the  Father's  voice  31 


806  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [u.  i 

From  Heaven  pronounced  him  his  beloved  Son. 

That  heard  the  adversary,  who,  roving  still 

About  the  world,  at  that  assembly  famed 

"Would  not  be  last ;  and  with  the  voice  divine 

Kigh  thunder-struck,  the  exalted  Man,  to  whom 

Such  high  attest  was  given,  a  while  survey'd 

With  wonder ;  then,  with  envy  fraught  and  rage, 

Flies  to  his  place,  nor  rests,  but  in  mid  air 

To  council  summons  all  his  mighty  peers, 

"Within  thick  clouds  and  dark  tenfold  involved,  41 

A  gloomy  consistory ;  and  them  amidst, 

"With  looks  aghast  and  sad,  he  thus  bespake  : 

"  O  ancient  powers  of  air  and  this  wide  world ; 
For  much  more  willingly  I  mention  air, 
This  our  old  conquest,  than  remember  Hell, 
Our  hated  habitation ;  well  ye  know 
How  many  ages,  as  the  years  of  men, 
This  universe  we  have  possessed,  and  ruled 
In  manner  at  our  will  the  affairs  of  earth, 
Since  Adam  and  his  facile  consort  Eve 
Lost  Paradise,  deceived  by  me ;  though  since  %  52 

With  dread  attending  when  that  fatal  wound ' 
Shall  be  inflicted  by  the  Seed  of  Eve 
Upon  my  head :  long  the  decrees  of  Heaven 
Delay,  for  longest  time  to  him  is  short ; 
And  now,  too  soon  for  us,  the  circling  hours 
This  dreaded  time  have  compass'd,  wherein  we 
Must  bide  the  stroke  of  that  long-threaten' d  wound, 
At  least  if  so  we  can,  and  by  the  head 
Broken  be  not  intended  all  our  power 
To  be  infringed,  our  freedom  and  our  being, 
In  this  fair  empire  won  of  earth  and  air ;  68 

For  this  ill  news  I  bring,  the  woman's  Seed, 
Destined  to  this,  is  late  of  woman  born : 
His  birth  to  our  just  fear  gave  no  small  cause, 
But  his  growth  now  to  youth's  full  flower,  displaying 
All  virtue,  grace,  and  wisdom  to  achieve 
Things  highest,  greatest,  multiplies  my  fear. 
Before  him  a  great  prophet,  to  proclaim 
His  coming,  is  sent  harbinger ;  who  all 
Invites,  and  in  the  consecrated  stream 
Pretends  to  wash  off  sin,  and  fit  them,  so 
Purified,  to  receive  him  pure,  or,  rather,  74 


B.  I.]  PARADISE    REGAINED.  307 

To  do  him  honor  as  their  king :  all  come, 

And  he  himself  among  them  was  baptized ; 

Not  thence  to  he  more  pure,  hut  to  receive 

The  testimony  of  Heaven,  that  who  he  is 

Thenceforth  the  nations  may  not  douht.    I  saw 

The  prophet  do  him  reverence ;  on  him,  rising 

Out  of  the  water,  Heaven,  above  the  clouds, 

Unfold  her  crystal  doors ;  thence  on  his  head 

A  perfect  dove  descend,  whatever  it  meant ; 

And  out  of  Heaven  the  Sovereign  voice  I  heard,  84 

4  This  is  my  Son  beloved,  in  him  am  pleased.' 

His  mother  then  is  mortal,  but  his  Sire 

He  who  obtains  the  monarchy  of  Heaven ; 

And  what  will  he  not  do  to  advance  his  Son  ? 

His  first-begot  we  know,  and  sore  have  felt, 

When  his  fierce  thunder  drove  us  to  the  deep : 

Who  this  is  we  must  learn,  for  man  he  seems 

In  all  his  lineaments,  though  in  his  face 

The  glimpses  of  his  Father's  glory  shine. 

Ye  see  our  danger  on  the  utmost  edge 

Of  hazard,  which  admits  no  long  debate,  95 

But  must  with  something  sudden  be  opposed, 

(Not  force,  but  well-couch'd  fraud,  well-woven  snares,) 

Ere  in  the  head  of  nations  he  appear 

Their  king,  their  leader,  and  supreme  on  earth. 

I,  when  no  other  durst,  sole  undertook 

The  dismal  expedition  to  find  out 

And  ruin  Adam,  and  the  exploit  perform' d 

Successfully :  a  calmer  voyage  now 

Will  waft  me ;  and  the  way  found  prosperous  once, 

Induces  best  to  hope  of  like  success." 

He  ended,  and  his  words  impression  left  106 

Of  much  amazement  to  the  infernal  crew, 
Distracted  and  surprised  with  deep  dismay 
At  these  sad  tidings ;  but  no  time  was  then 
For  long  indulgence  to  their  fears  or  grief : 
Unanimous  they  all  commit  the  care 
And  management  of  this  main  enterprise 
To  him  their  great  dictator,  whose  attempt 
At  first  against  mankind  so  well  had  thrived 
In  Adam's  overthrow,  and  led  their  march 
From  Hell's  deep-vaulted  den  to  dwell  in  light, 
Regents,  and  potentates,  and  kings,  yea  gods,  117 


308  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  i 

Of  many  a  pleasant  realm  and  province  wide. 

So  to  the  coast  of.  Jordan  he  directs 

His  easy  steps,  girded  with  snaky  wiles, 

"Where  he  might  likeliest  find  this  new  declared, 

This  Man  of  men,  attested  Son  of  God, 

Temptation  and  all  guile  on  him  to  try ; 

So  to  subvert  whom  he  suspected  raised 

To  end  his  reign  on  earth,  so  long  enjoy 'd : 

But,  contrary,  unweeting  he  fulfill'd 

The  purposed  counsel  preordained  and  fix'd  127 

Of  the  Most  High,  who,  in  full  frequence  bright 

Of  angels,  thus  to  Gabriel  smiling  spake : 

"  Gabriel,  this  day,  by  proof,  thou  shalt  behold, 
Thou  and  all  angels  conversant  on  earth 
With  man  or  men's  affairs,  how  I  begin 
To  verify  that  solemn  message  late, 
On  which  I  sent  thee  to  the  virgin  pure 
In  Galilee,  that  she  should  bear  a  son 
Great  in  renown,  and  call'd  the  Son  of  God ; 
Then  told'st  her,  doubting  how  these  things  could  be 
To  her  a  virgin,  that  on  her  should  come  138 

The  Holy  Ghost,  and  the  power  of  the  Highest 
O'ershadow  her :  this  man  born  and  now  upgrown, 
To  show  him  worthy  of  his  birth  divine 
And  high  prediction,  henceforth  I  expose 
To  Satan ;  let  him  tempt  and  now  assay 
His  utmost  subtlety,  because  he  boasts 
And  vaunts  of  his  great  cunning  to  the  throng 
Of  his  apostasy :  he  might  have  learnt 
Less  overweening,  since  he  fail'd  in  Job, 
Whose  constant  perseverance  overcame 
Whate'er  his  cruel  malice  could  invent.  14$ 

He  now  shall  know  I  can  produce  a  man 
Of  female  seed,  far  abler  to  resist 
All  his  solicitations,  and  at  length 
All  his  vast  force,  and  drive  him  back  to  Hell ; 
Winning  by  conquest  what  the  first  man  lost 
By  fallacy  surprised.     But  first  I  mean 
To  exercise  him  in  the  wilderness ; 
There  he  shall  first  lay  down  the  rudiments 
Of  his  great  warfare,  ere  I  send  him  forth 
To  conquer  Sin  and  Death,  the  two  grand  foes, 
By  humiliation  and  strong  sufferance :  160 


B.  I.I  PARADISE   REGAINED.  309 

His  weakness  shall  o'ercome  Satanic  strength, 
And  all  the  world,  and  mass  of  sinful  flesh ; 
That  all  the  angels  and  ethereal  powers, 
They  now,  and  men  hereafter,  may  discern, 
From  what  consummate  virtue  I  have  chose 
This  perfect  man,  by  merit  called  my  Son, 
To  earn  salvation  for  the  sons  of  men." 

So  spake  the  eternal  Father,  and  all  Heaven 
Admiring  stood  a  space  ;  then  into  hymns 
Burst  forth,  and  in  celestial  measures  moved,  17C 

Circling  the  throne  and  singing,  while  the  hand 
Sung  with  the  voice ;  and  this  the  argument : 

u  Victory  and  triumph  to  the  Son  of  God 
]tfow  entering  his  great  duel,  not  of  arms, 
But  to  vanquish  by  wisdom  hellish  wiles. 
The  Father  knows  the  Son ;  therefore  secure 
Ventures  his  filial  virtue,  though  untried, 
Against  whatever  may  tempt,  whatever  seduce, 
Allure,  or  terrify,  or  undermine. 
Be  frustrate,  all  ye  stratagems  of  Hell, 
And  devilish  machinations  come  to  naught."  181 

So  they  in  Heaven  their  odes  and  vigils  tuned : 
Meanwhile  the  Son  of  God,  who  yet  some  days 
Lodged  in  Bethabara  where  John  baptized, 
Musing,  and  much  revolving  in  his  breast, 
How  best  the  mighty  work  he  might  begin 
Of  Saviour  to  mankind,  and  which  way  first 
Publish  his  godlike  office  now  mature, 
One  day  forth  walk'd  alone,  the  Spirit  leading, 
And  his  deep  thoughts,  the  better  to  converse 
"With  solitude,  till  far  from  track  of  men, 
Thought  following  thought,  and  step  by  step  led  on,  102 
He  enter'd  now  the  bordering  desert  wild, 
And  with  dark  shades  and  rocks  environ1  d  round, 
His  holy  meditations  thus  pursued : 

"  O  what  a  multitude  of  thoughts  at  once 
Awaken' d  in  me  swarm,  while  I  consider 
What  from  within  I  feel  myself,  and  hear 
"What  from  without  comes  often  to  my  ears, 
111  sorting  with  my  present  state  compared ! 
When  I  was  yet  a  child,  no  childish  play 
To  me  was  pleasing ;  all  my  mind  was  set 
Serious  to  learn  and  know,  and  thence  to  do  203 


310  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  i. 

What  might  be  public  good ;  myself  I  thought 

Born  to  that  end,  born  to  promote  all  truth, 

All  righteous  things :  therefore  above  my  years, 

The  law  of  God  I  read,  and  found  it  sweet, 

Made  it  my  whole  delight,  and  in  it  grew 

To  such  perfection,  that  ere  yet  my  age 

Had  measured  twice  six  years,  at  our  great  feast 

I  went  into  the  temple,  there  to  hear 

The  teachers  of  our  law,  and  to  propose 

What  might  improve  my  knowledge  or  their  own,      213 

And  was  admired  by  all.     Yet  this  not  all 

To  which  my  spirit  aspired :  victorious  deeds 

Flamed  in  my  heart,  heroic  acts ;   one  while 

To  rescue  Israel  from  the  Roman  yoke, 

Then  to  subdue  and  quell  o'er  all  the  earth 

Brute  violence  and  proud  tyrannic  power, 

Till  truth  were  freed,  and  equity  restored : 

Yet  held  it  more  humane,  more  heavenly,  first 

By  winning  words  to  conquer  willing  hearts, 

AJnd  make  persuasion  do  the  work  of  fear ; 

At  least  to  try,  and  teach  the  erring  soul  224 

Not  wilfully  misdoing,  but  unware 

Misled ;  the  stubborn  only  to  subdue. 

These  growing  thoughts  my  mother  soon  perceiving, 

By  words  at  times  cast  forth,  inly  rejoiced, 

And  said  to  me  apart:   'High  are  thy  thoughts, 

O  Son ;  but  nourish  them,  and  let  them  soar 

To  what  height  sacred  virtue  and  true  worth 

Can  raise  them,  though  above  example  high ; 

By  matchless  deeds  express  thy  matchless  Sire. 

For  know,  thou  art  no  son  of  mortal  man ; 

Though  men  esteem  thee  low  of  parentage,  235 

Thy  father  is  the  eternal  King,  who  rules 

All  Heaven  and  earth,  angels  and  sons  of  men ; 

A  messenger  from  God  foretold  thy  birth 

Conceived  in  me  a  virgin ;  he  foretold 

Thou  shouldst  be  great,  and  sit  on  David's  throne, 

And  of  thy  kingdom  there  should  be  no  end. 

At  thy  nativity  a  glorious  quire 

Of  angels  in  the  fields  of  Bethlehem  sung 

To  shepherds  watching  at  their  folds  by  night, 

And  told  them  the  Messiah  now  was  born, 

Where  they  might  see  him,  and  to  thee  they  came,     246 


8.   I.]  PARADISE    REGAINED.  311 

Directed  to  the  manger  where  thou  lay'st, 

For  in  the  inn  was  left  no  better  room : 

A  star,  not  seen  before,  in  Heaven  appearing, 

Guided  the  wise  men  thither  from  the  east, 

To  honor  thee  with  incense,  myrrh,  and  gold, 

By  whose  bright  course  led  on  they  found  the  place, 

Affirming  it  thy  star  new  graven  in  Heaven, 

By  which  they  knew  the  King  of  Israel  born. 

Just  Simeon,  and  prophetic  Anna,  warn'd 

By  vision,  found  thee  in  the  temple,  and  spake,  256 

Before  the  altar  and  the  vested  priest, 

Like  things  of  thee  to  all  that  present  stood.' 

"  This  having  heard,  straight  I  again  revolved 
The  law  and  prophets,  searching  what  was  writ 
Concerning  the  Messiah,  to  our  scribes 
Known  partly,  and  soon  found  of  whom  they  spake 
I  am ;  this  chiefly,  that  my  way  must  lie 
Through  many  a  hard  assay  even  to  the  death, 
Ere  I  the  promised  kingdom  can  attain, 
Or  work  redemption  for  mankind,  whose  sins' 
Full  weight  must  be  transferr'd  upon  my  head.  267 

Yet  neither  thus  dishearten'd  or  dismay 'd, 
The  time  prefix'd  I  waited,  when  behold 
The  Baptist  (of  whose  birth  I  oft  had  heard, 
Not  knew  by  sight)  now  come,  who  was  to  come 
Before  Messiah,  and  his  way  prepare. 
I  as  all  others  to  his  baptism  came, 
Which  I  believed  was  from  above ;  but  he 
Straight  knew  me,  and  with  loudest  voice  proclaim'd 
Me  him,  (for  it  was  shown  him  so  from  Heaven,) 
Me  him  whose  harbinger  he  was ;  and  first 
Refused  on  me  his  baptism  to  confer,  278 

As  much  his  greater,  and  was  hardly  won : 
But  as  I  rose  out  of  the  laving  stream, 
Heaven  open'd  her  eternal  doors,  from  whence 
The  Spirit  descended  on  me  like  a  dove, 
And  last,  the  sum  of  all,  my  Father's  voice, 
Audibly  heard  from  Heaven,  pronounced  me  his, 
Me  his  beloved  Son,  in  whom  alone 
He  was  well  pleased ;  by  which  I  knew  the  time 
Now  full,  that  I  no  more  should  live  obscure, 
But  openly  begin,  as  best  becomes 
The  authority  which  I  derived  from  Heaven.  289 


312  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  I 

And  now  by  some  strong  motion  I  am  led 

Into  this  wilderness,  to  what  intent 

I  learn  not  yet,  perhaps  I  need  not  know ; 

For  what  concerns  my  knowledge  God  reveals.1' 

So  spake  our  Morning  Star,  then  in  his  rise, 
And  looking  round  on  every  side  beheld 
A  pathless  desert,  dusk  with  horrid  shades : 
The  way  he  came,  not  having  mark'd,  return 
Was  difficult,  by  human  steps  untrod ; 
And  he  still  on  was  led,  but  with  such  thoughts         299 
Accompanied  of  things  past  and  to  come 
Lodged  in  his  breast,  as  well  might  recommend 
Such  solitude  before  choicest  society. 
Full  forty  days  he  pass'd,  whether  on  hill 
Sometimes,  anon  in  shady  vale,  each  night 
Under  the  covert  of  some  ancient  oak, 
Or  cedar,  to  defend  him  from  the  dew, 
Or  harbor'd  in  one  cave,  is  not  reveal'd ; 
Nor  tasted  human  food,  nor  hunger  felt 
Till  those  days  ended,  hunger' d  then  at  last 
Among  wild  beasts :  they  at  his  sight  grew  mild,       310 
Nor  sleeping  him,  nor  waking,  harin'd ;  his  walk 
The  fiery  serpent  fled,  and  noxious  worm ; 
The  lion  and  fierce  tiger  glared  aloof. 
But  now  an  aged  man,  in  rural  weeds, 
Following,  as  seern'd,  the  quest  of  some  stray  ewe, 
Or  withered  sticks  to  gather,  which  might  serve 
Against  a  winter's  day  when  winds  blow  keen, 
To  warm  him  wet  return'd  from  field  at  eve, 
He  saw  approach,  who  first  with  curious  eye 
Perused  him,  then  with  words  thus  utter'd  spake :      320 

"  Sir,  what  ill  chance  hath  brought  thee  to  this  place 
So  far  from  path  or  road  of  men,  who  pass 
In  troop  or  caravan  ?  for  single  none 
Durst-  ever,  who  return'd,  and  dropt  not  here 
His  carcass,  pined  with  hunger  and  with  drouth. 
I  ask  the  rather,  and  the  more  admire, 
For  that  to  me  thou  seem'st  the  man,  whom  late 
Our  new  baptizing  prophet  at  the  ford 
Of  Jordan  honor'd  so,  and  call'd  thee  Son 
Of  God ;  I  saw  and  heard,  for  we  sometimes, 
Who  dwell  this  wild,  constrain'd  by  want,  come  forth 
To  town  or  village  nigh  (nighest  is  far)  332 


B.  I.]  PARADISE   REGAINED.  313 

Where  aught  we  hear,  and  curious  are  to  hear, 
"What  happens  new ;  fame  also  finds  us  out." 

To  whom  the  Son  of  God :  "  Who  brought  me  hither, 
Will  bring  me  hence ;  no  other  guide  I  seek." 

"  By  miracle  he  may,"  replied  the  swain  ; 
"  What  other  way  I  see  not,  for  we  here 
Live  on  tough  roots  and  stubs,  to  thirst  inured 
More  than  the  camel,  and  to  drink  go  far, 
Men  to  much  misery  and  hardship  born : 
But  if  thou  be  the  Son  of  God,  command  342 

That  out  of  these  hard  stones  be  made  thee  bread, 
So  shalt  thou  save  thyself  and  us  relieve 
With  food,  whereof  we  wretched  seldom  taste." 

He  ended,  and  the  Son  of  God  replied : 
"Think'st  thou  such  force  in  bread  ?    Is  it  not  written 
(For  I  discern  thee  other  than  thou  seem'st) 
Man  lives  not  by  bread  only,  but  each  word 
Proceeding  from  the  mouth  of  God,  who  fed 
Our  fathers  here  with  manna  ?    In  the  mount 
Moses  was  forty  days,  nor  ate  nor  drank ; 
And  forty  days  Elijah  without  food  853 

Wander'd  this  barren  waste ;  the  same  I  now : 
Why  dost  thou  then  suggest  to  me  distrust, 
Knowing  who  I  am,  as  I  know  who  thou  art  ?" 

Whom  thus  answer'd  the  arch-fiend,  now  undisguised : 
u'Tis  true,  I  am  that  spirit  unfortunate, 
Who,  leagued  with  millions  more  in  rash  revolt, 
Kept  not  my  happy  station,  but  was  driven 
With  them  from  bliss  to  the  bottomless  deep ; 
Yet  to  that  hideous  place  not  so  confined 
By  rigor  unconniving,  but  that  oft  363 

Leaving  my  dolorous  prison  I  enjoy 
Large  liberty  to  round  this  globe  of  earth, 
Or  range  in  the  air ;  nor  from  the  Heaven  of  Heavens 
Hath  he  excluded  my  resort  sometimes. 
I  came  among  the  sons  of  God,  when  he 
Gave  up  into  my  hands  Uzzean  Job 
To  prove  him,  and  illustrate  his  high  worth; 
And  when  to  all  his  angels  he  proposed 
To  draw  the  proud  king  Ahab  into  fraud 
That  he  might  fall  in  Eamoth,  they  demurring, 
I  undertook  that  office,  and  the  tongues 
Of  all  his  flattering  prophets  glibVd  with  lies  375 

27 


314-  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  i 

To  his  destruction,  as  I  had  in  charge, 

For  what  he  bids  I  do.    Though  I  have  lost 

Much  lustre  of  my  native  brightness,  lost 

To  be  beloved  of  God,  I  have  not  lost 

To  love,  at  least  contemplate  and  admire 

What  I  see  excellent  in  good,  or  fair, 

Or  virtuous,  I  should  so  have  lost  all  sense. 

What  can  be  then  less  in  me  than  desire 

To  see  thee  and  approach  thee,  whom  I  know 

Declared  the  Son  of  G-od,  to  hear  attent  385 

Thy  wisdom,  and  behold  thy  godlike  deeds  ? 

Men  generally  think  me  such  a  foe 

To  all  mankind :  why  should  I  ?  they  to  me 

Never  did  wrong  or  violence ;  by  them 

I  lost  not  what  I  lost,  rather  by  them 

I  gain'd  what  I  have  gain'd,  and  with  them  dwell 

Copartner  in  these  regions  of  the  world, 

If  not  disposer ;  lend  them  oft  my  aid, 

Oft  my  advice  by  presages  and  signs, 

And  answers,  oracles,  portents,  and  dreams, 

Whereby  they  may  direct  their  future  life.  396 

Envy  they  say  excites  me,  thus  to  gain 

Companions  of  my  misery  and  woe. 

At  first  it  may  be ;  but  long  since  with  woe 

Nearer  acquainted,  now  I  feel  by  proof, 

That  fellowship  in  pain  divides  not  smart, 

Nor  lightens  aught  each  man's  peculiar  load. 

Small  consolation  then,  were  man  adjoin'd : 

This  wounds  me  most  (what  can  it  less  ?)  that  man, 

Man  fallen  shall  be  restored,  I  never  more." 

To  whom  our  Saviour  sternly  thus  replied  : 
fct  Deservedly  thou  grievest,  composed  of  lies  407 

From  the  beginning,  and  in  lies  wilt  end ; 
Who  boast'st  release  from  Hell,  and  leave  to  come 
Into  the  Heaven  of  Heavens.    Thou  com'st  indeed, 
As  a  poor  miserable  captive  thrall 
Comes  to  the  place  where  he  before  had  sat 
Among  the  prime  in  splendor,  now  deposed, 
Ejected,  emptied,  gazed,  unpitied,  shunn'd, 
A  spectacle  of  ruin  or  of  scorn 
To  all  the  host  of  Heaven :  the  happy  place 
Imparts  to  thee  no  happiness,  no  joy, 
Bather  inflames  thy  torment,  representing  418 


B.  I.]  PARADISE   REGAINED.  315 

Lost  bliss,  to  thee  no  more  communicable ; 
So  never  more  in  Hell  than  when  in  Heaven. 
But  thou  art  serviceable  to  Heaven's  King. 
"Wilt  thou  impute  to  obedience  what  thy  fear 
Extorts,  or  pleasure  to  do  ill  excites  ? 
What  but  thy  malice  moved  thee  to  misdeem 
Of  righteous  Job,  then  cruelly  to  afflict  him 
With  all  inflictions  ?  but  his  patience  won. 
The  other  service  was  thy  chosen  task, 
To  be  a  liar  in  four  hundred  mouths ;  42S 

•For  lying  is  thy  sustenance,  thy  food. 
Yet  thou  pretend'st  to  truth ;  all  oracles 
By  thee  are  given,  and  what  confess'd  more  true 
Among  the  nations  ?  that  hath  been  thy  craft, 
By  mixing  somewhat  true  to  vent  more  lies. 
But  what  have  been  thy  answers,  what  but  dark, 
Ambiguous,  and  with  double  sense  deluding, 
Which  they  who  ask'd  have  seldom  understood, 
And  not  well  understood  as  good  not  known  ? 
Who  ever  by  consulting  at  thy  shrine 
Returned  the  wiser,  or  the  more  instruct  439 

To  fly  or  follow  what  concerned  him  most, 
And  run  not  sooner  to  his  fatal  snare  ? 
For  God  hath  justly  given  the  nations  up 
To  thy  delusions;  justly,  since  they  fell 
Idolatrous :  but  when  his  purpose  is 
*  Among  them  to  declare  his  providence 
To  thee  not  known,  whence  hast  thou  then  thy  truth 
But  from  him  or  his  angels  president 
In  every  province  ?  who,  themselves  disdaining 
To  approach  thy  temples,  give  thee  in  command* 
What  to  the  smallest  tittle  thou  shalt  say  553 

To  thy  adorers ;  thou,  with  trembling  fear, 
Or  like  a  fawning  parasite,  obey'st ; 
Then  to  thyself  ascrib'st  the  truth  foretold. 
But  this  thy  glory  shall  be  soon  retrenched ; 
No  more  shalt  thou  by  oracling  abuse 
The  Gentiles :  henceforth  oracles  are  ceased, 
And  thou  no  more  with  pomp  and  sacrifice 
Shalt  be  inquired  at  Delphos  or  elsewhere ; 
At  least  in  vain,  for  they  shall  find  thee  mute. 
God  hath  now  sent  his  living  oracle 
Into  the  world  to  teach  his  final  will,  461 


316  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  T 

And  sends  his  Spirit  of  truth  henceforth  to  dwell 

In  pious  hearts,  an  inward  oracle 

To  all  truth  requisite  for  men  to  know." 

So  spake  our  Saviour :  but  the  subtle  fiend, 
Though  inly  stung  with  anger  and  disdain, 
Dissembled,  and  this  answer  smooth  return'd : 

"  Sharply  thou  hast  insisted  on  rebuke, 
And  urged  me  hard  with  doings,  which  not  will 
But  misery  hath  wrested  from  me :  where 
Easily  canst  thou  find  one  miserable,  471 

And  not  enforced  ofttimes  to  part  from  truth ; 
If  it  may  stand  him  more  in  stead  to  lie, 
Say  and  unsay,  feign,  flatter,  or  abjure? 
But  thou  art  placed  above  me,  thou  art  Lord ; 
For  thee  I  can  and  must  submiss  endure 
Check  or  reproof,  and  glad  to  'scape  so  quit. 
Hard  are  the  ways  of  truth,  and  rough  to  walk, 
Smooth  on  the  tongue  discoursed,  pleasing  to  the  ear, 
And  tunable  as  sylvan  pipe  or  song  ; 
What  wonder,  then,  if  I  delight  to  hear 
Her  dictates  from  thy  mouth  ?    Most  men  admire      482 
Virtue,  who  follow  not  her  lore :  permit  me 
To  hear  thee  when  I  come,  (since  no  man  comes,) 
And  talk  at  least,  though  I  despair  to  attain. 
Thy  Father,  who  is  holy,  wise,  and  pure, 
Suffers  the  hypocrite  or  atheous  priest 
To  tread  his  sacred  courts,  and  minister 
About  his  altar,  handling  holy  things, 
Praying  or  vowing ;  and  vouchsafed  his  voice 
To  Balaam  reprobate,  a  prophet  yet 
Inspired :  disdain  not  such  access  to  me." 

To  whom  our  Saviour  with  unaltered  brow :  493 

"Thy  coming  hither,  though  I  know  thy  scope, 
I  bid  not,  or  forbid ;  do  as  thou  find'st 
Permission  from  above ;  thou  canst  not  more." 

He  added  not ;  and  Satan,  bowing  low 
His  gray  dissimulation,  disappeared, 
Into  thin  air  diffused :  for  now  began 
Night,  with  her  sullen  wings,  to  double-shade 
The  desert ;  fowls  in  their  clay  nests  were  couch'd ; 
And  now  wild  beasts  came  forth  the  woods  to  roam. 


PARADISE    REGAINED. 


BOOK  II. 

MEANWHILE  the  new-baptized,  who  yet  remain'd 
At  Jordan  with  the  Baptist,  and  had  seen 
Him  whom  they  heard  so  late  expressly  call'd 
Jesus  Messiah,  Son  of  God  declared. 
And  on  that  high  authority  had  believed, 
And  with  him  talk'd,  and  with  him  lodged,  I  mean 
Andrew  and  Simon,  famous  after  known, 
With  others,  though  in  Holy  Writ  not  named, 
Now  missing  him,  their  joy,  so  lately  found, —  9 

So  lately  found,  and  so  abruptly  gone, — 
Began  to  doubt,  and  doubted  many  days, 
And,  as  the  days  increased,  increased  their  doubt : 
Sometimes  they  thought  he  might  be  only  shown, 
And  for  a  time  caught  up  to  God,  as  once 
Moses  was  in  the  mount,  and  missing  long ; 
And  the  great  Thisbite,  who  on  fiery  wheels 
Rode  up  to  Heaven,  yet  once  again  to  come. 
Therefore  as  those  young  prophets  then  with  care 
Sought  lost  Elijah,  so  in  each  place  these 
Nigh  to  Bethabara ;  in  Jericho,  20 

The  city  of  palms,  ^Enon,  and  Salem  old, 
Machaerus,  and  each  town  or  city  wall'd 
On  this  side  the  broad  lake  Genezaret, 
•Or  in  Peraea ;  but  returned  in  vain. 
Then  on  the  bank  of  Jordan,  by  a  creek, 
Where  winds  with  reeds  and  osiers  whispering  play, 
Plain  fishermen,  no  greater  men  them  call, 
Close  in  a  cottage  low  together  gjot, 
Their  unexpected  loss  and  plaints  outbreathed : 
"  Alas,  from  what  high  hope  to  what  relapse 
Unlook'd  for  are  we  fallen !  our  eyes  beheld  31 


SI 8  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  fu.  n. 

Messiah  certainly  now  come,  so  long 

Expected  of  our  fathers ;  we  have  heard 

His  words,  his  wisdom  full  of  grace  and  truth  ; 

Now,  now,  for  sure,  deliverance  is  at  hand, 

The  kingdom  shall  to  Israel  he  restored : 

Thus  we  rejoiced,  but  soon  our  joy  is  turnM 

Into  perplexity  and  new  amaze : 

For  whither  is  he  gone  ?  what  accident 

Hath  rapt  him  from  us  ?  will  he  now  retire, 

After  appearance,  and  again  prolong  41 

Our  expectation  ?    God  of  Israel, 

Send  thy  Messiah  forth,  the  time  is  come : 

Behold  the  kings  of  the  earth  how  they  oppress 

Thy  chosen,  to  what  height  their  power  unjust 

They  have  exalted,  and  behind  them  cast 

All  fear  of  thee :  arise  and  vindicate 

Thy  glory,  free  thy  people  from  their  yoke, 

But  let  us  wait ;  thus  far  he  hath  perform'd, 

Sent  his  Anointed,  and  to  us  reveal'd  him, 

By  his  great  prophet,  pointed  at  and  shown 

In  public,  and  with  him  we  have  conversed :  52 

Let  us  be  glad  of  this,  and  all  our  fears 

Lay  on  his  providence ;  he  will  not  fail, 

Nor  will  withdraw  him  now,  nor  will  recall, 

Mock  us  with  his  blest  sight,  then  snatch  him  hence ; 

Soon  we  shall  see  our  hope,  our  joy  return." 

Thus  they  out  of  their  plaints  new  hope  resume 
To  find  whom  at  the  first  they  found  unsought : 
But  to  his  jnother,  Mary,  when  she  saw 
Others  return'd  from  baptism,  not  her  son, 
Nor  left  at  Jordan  tidings  of  him  none,  62 

Within  her  breast  though  calm,  her  breast  though  pure, 
Motherly  cares  and  fears  got  head,  and  raised 
Some  troubled  thoughts,  which  she  in  sighs  thus  clad  : 

"  0  what  avails  me  now  that  honor  high 
To  have  conceived  of  God?  or  that  salute, 
4 Hail,  highly-favor'd,  among  women  blest?1 
While  I  to  sorrows  am  no  less  advanced, 
And  fears  as  imminent,  above  the  lot 
Of  other  women,  by  the  birth  I  bore ; 
In  such  a  season  born  when  scarce  a  shed 
Could  be  obtained  to  shelter  him  or  me 
From  the  bleak  air ;  a  stable  was  our  warmth,  74 


B.  II.]  PARADISE    REGAINED.  319 

A  manger  his ;  yet  soon  enforced  to  fly 

Thence  into  Egypt,  till  the  murderous  king 

Were  dead  who  sought  his  life,  and,  missing,  filPd 

With  infant  blood  the  streets  of  Bethlehem. 

From  Egypt  home  return'd,  in  Nazareth 

Hath  been  our  dwelling  many  years ;  his  life, 

Private,  unactive,  calm,  contemplative, 

Little  suspicious  to  any  king :  but  now 

Full  grown  to  man,  acknowledged,  as  I  hear, 

By  John  the  Baptist,  and  in  public  shown,  84 

Son  own'd  from  Heaven  by  his  Father's  voice, 

I  look'd  for  some  great  change ;  to  honor  ?  no, 

But  trouble,  as  old  Simeon  plain  foretold, 

That  to  the  fall  and  rising  he  should  be 

Of  many  in  Israel,  and  to  a  sign 

Spoken  against,  that  through  my  very  soul 

A  sword  shall  pierce :  this  is  my  favor'd  lot, 

My  exaltation  to  afflictions  high. 

Afflicted  I  may  be,  it  seems,  and  blest; 

I  will  not  argue  that,  nor  will  repine. 

But  where  delays  he  now  ?  some  great  intent  05 

Conceals  him :  when  twelve  years  he  scarce  had  seen, 

I  lost  him,  but  so  found,  as  well  I  saw 

He  could  not  lose  himself;  but  went  about 

His  Father's  business ;  what  he  meant  I  mused, 

Since  understand;  much  more  his  absence  now 

Thus  long  to  some  great  purpose  he  obscures. 

But  I  to  wait  with  patience  am  inured ; 

My  heart  hath  been  a  storehouse  long  of  things 

And  sayings  laid  up,  portending  strange  events.-' 

Thus  Mary  pondering  oft,  and  oft  to  mind  1G5 

Recalling  what  remarkably  had  pass'd 
Since  first  her  salutation  heard,  with  thoughts 
Meekly  composed  awaited  the  fulfilling : 
The  while  her  son  tracing  the  desert  wild, 
Sole  but  with  holiest  meditations  fed, 
Into  himself  descended,  and  at  once 
All  his  great  work  to  come  before  him  set ; 
How  to  begin,  how  to  accomplish  best 
His  end  of  being  on  earth,  and  mission  high : 
For  Satan,  with  sly  preface  to  return, 
Had  left  him  vacant,  and  with  speed  was  gone 
Up  to  the  middle  region  of  thick  air,  117 


320  MILTON  S    POETICAL    WORKS.  [B.  II. 

Where  all  liis  potentates  in  council  sat ; 
There  without  sign  of  boast,  or  sign  of  joy, 
Solicitous  and  blank  he  thus  began : 

u  Princes,  Heaven's  ancient  sons,  ethereal  thrones, 
Demonian  spirits  now,  from  the  element 
Each  of  his  reign  allotted,  rightlier  call'd 
Powers  of  fire,  air,  water,  and  earth  beneath, 
So  may  we  hold  our  place  and  these  mild  seats 
Without  new  trouble ;   such  an  enemy 
Is  risen  to  invade  us,  who  no  less  127 

Threatens  than  our  expulsion  down  to  Hell. 
I,  as  I  undertook,  and  with  the  vote 
Consenting  in  full  frequence  was  empowered, 
Have  found  him,  view'd  him,  tasted  him,  but  find 
Far  other  labor  to  be  undergone, 
Than  when  I  dealt  with  Adam  first  of  men, 
Though  Adam  by  his  wife's  allurement  fell, 
However  to  this  man  inferior  far, 
If  he  be  man  by  mother's  side  at  least, 
With  more  than  human  gifts  from  Heaven  adorn'd, 
Perfections  absolute,  graces  divine,  138 

And  amplitude  of  mind  to  greatest  deeds. 
Therefore  I  am  return'd,  lest  confidence 
Of  my  success  with  Eve  in  Paradise 
Deceive  ye  to  persuasion  over-sure 
Of  like  succeeding  here ;  I  summon  all 
Rather  to  be  in  readiness,  with  hand 
Or  counsel  to  assist ;  lest  I  who  erst 
Thought  none  my  equal,  now  be  over-mateh'd." 

So  spake  the  old  serpent  doubting,  and  from  all 
With  clamor  was  assured  their  utmost  aid 
At  his  command;  when  from  amidst  them  rose          149 
Belial,  the  dissolutest  spirit  that  fell, 
The  sensualest,  and,  after  Ajmodai, 
The  fleshliest  incubus,  and  thus  advised  : 

"  Set  women  in  his  eye,  and  in  his  walk, 
Among  daughters  of  men  the  fairest  found ; 
Many  are  in  each  region  passing  fair 
As  the  noon  sky;  more  like  to  goddesses 
Than  mortal  creatures,  graceful  and  discreet, 
Expert  in  amorous  arts,  enchanting  tongues 
Persuasive,  virgin  majesty  with  mild 
And  sweet  allay M,  yet  terrible  to  approach,  160 


S.  II.]  PARADISE    REGAINED.  321 

Skill'd  to  retire,  and  in  retiring  draw 
Hearts  after  them  tangled  in  amorous  nets. 
Such  object  hath  the  power  to  soften  and  tame 
Severest  temper,  smooth  the  rugged'st  brow, 
Enerve,  and  with  voluptuous  hope  dissolve, 
Draw  out  with  credulous  desire,  and  lead 
At  will  the  manliest,  resolutest  breast, 
As  the  magnetic  hardest  iron  draws. 
Women,  when  nothing  else,  beguiled  the  heart 
Of  wisest  Solomon,  and  made  him  build,  170 

And  made  him  bow  to  the  gods  of  his  wives." 
To  whom  q.uick  answer  Satan  thus  returned : 
"  Belial,  in  much  uneven  scale  thou  weigh'st 
All  others  by  thyself;  because  of  old 
Thou  thyself  doat'dst  on  womankind,  admiring 
Their  shape,  their  color,  and  attractive  grace, 
None  are,  thou  think'st,  but  taken  with  such  toys. 
Before  the  flood,  thou  with  thy  lusty  crew, 
False  titled  sons  of  God,  roaming  the  earth 
Cast  wanton  eyes  on  the  daughters  of  men, 
And  coupled  with  tbem,  and  begot  a  race.  181 

Have  we  not  seen,  or  by  relation  heard, 
In  courts  and  regal  chambers  how  thou  lurk'st, 
In  wood  or  grove  by  mossy  fountain  side, 
In  valley  or  green  meadow,  to  waylay 
Some  beauty  rare,  Calisto,  Olymene, 
Daphne,  or  Semele,  Antiopa, 
Or  Amymone,  Syrinx,  many  more 
Too  long,  then  lay'st  thy  'scapes  on  names  adored, 
Apollo,  Neptune,  Jupiter,  or  Pan, 
Satyr,  or  Faun,  or  Sylvan  ?    But  these  haunts 
Delight  not  all;  among  the  sons  of  men,  193 

How  many  have  with  a  smile  made  small  account 
Of  beauty  and  her  lures,  easily  scorn' d 
All  her  assaults,  on  worthier  things  intent  I 
Remember  that  Pellean  conqueror, 
A  youth,  how  all  the  beauties  of  the  east 
He  slightly  view'd,  and  slightly  overpass'd ; 
How  he  surnamed  of  Africa  dismissed 
In  his  prime  youth  the  fair  Iberian  maid. 
For  Solomon,  he  lived  at  ease,  and  full 
Of  honor,  wealth,  high  fare,  aim'd  not  beyond 
Higher  design  than  to  enjoy  his  state;  203 


022  MILTON  S   POETICAL   WORKS.  [B.  II 

Thence  to  the  bait  of  women  lay  exposed : 

"But  he  whom  we  attempt  is  wiser  far 

Than  Solomon,  of  more  exalted  mind, 

Made  and  set  wholly  on  the  accomplishment 

Of  greatest  things :  what  woman  will  you  find, 

Though  of  this  age  the  wonder  and  the  fame, 

On  whom  his  leisure  will  vouchsafe  an  eye 

Of  fond  desire  ?  or  should  she  confident, 

As  sitting  queen  adored  on  beauty's  throne, 

Descend  with  all  her  winning  charms  begirt  213 

To  enamor,  as  the  zone  of  Venus  once 

Wrought  that  effect  on  Jove,  so  fables  tell ; 

How  would  one  look  from  his  majestic  brow 

Seated  as  on  the  top  of  virtue's  hill, 

Discountenance  her  despised,  and  put  to  rout 

All  her  array ;  her  female  pride  deject, 

Or  turn  to  reverent  awe !  for  beauty  stands 

In  the  admiration  only  of  weak  minds 

Led  captive ;  cease  to  admire,  and  all  her  plumes 

Fall  flat  and  shrink  into  a  trivial  toy, 

At  every  sudden  slighting  quite  abash'd.  224 

Therefore  with  manlier  objects  we  must  try 

His  constancy,  with  such  as  have  more  show 

Of  worth,  of  honor,  glory,  and  popular  praise ; 

Rocks  whereon  greatest  men  have  oftest  wreck'd ; 

Or  that  which  only  seems  to  satisfy 

Lawful  desires  of  nature,  not  beyond : 

And  now  I  know  he  hungers  where  no  food 

Is  to  be  found,  in  the  wide  wilderness ; 

The  rest  commit  to  me,  I  shall  let  pass 

No  advantage,  and  his  strength  as  oft  assay." 

He  ceased,  and  heard  their  grant  in  loud  acclaim ;  235 
Then  forthwith  to  him  takes  a  chosen  band 
Of  spirits  likest  to  himself  in  guile, 
To  be  at  hand,  and  at  his  beck  appear, 
If  cause  were  to  unfold  some  active  scene 
Of  various  persons,  each  to  know  his  part ; 
Then  to  the  desert  takes  with  these  his  flight ; 
Where  still  from  shade  to  shade  the  Son  of  God 
After  forty  days'  fasting  had  remained, 
Now  hungering  first,  and  to  himself  thus  said  : 

"  Where  will  this  end  ?  Four  times  ten  days  I've  pass'd 
Wandering  this  woody  maze,  and  human  food  246 


B.  II.]  PARADISE    REGAINED.  323 

Nor  tasted,  nor  had  appetite ;  that  fast 

To  virtue  I  impute  not,  or  count  part 

Or  Tvnac  I  suffer  here :  if  nature  need  not, 

Or  God  support  nature  without  repast, 

Though  needing,  what  praise  is  it  to  endure  ? 

But  now  I  feel  I  hunger,  which  declares 

Nature  hath  need  of  what  she  asks ;  yet  God 

Can  satisfy  that  need  some  other  way, 

Though  hunger  still  remain :  so  it  remain 

Without  this  body's  wasting,  I  content  me,  256 

And  from  the  sting  of  famine  fear  no  harm ; 

Nor  mind  it,  fed  with  better  thoughts  that  feed 

Me  hungering  more  to  do  my  Father's  will." 

It  was  the  hour  of  night,  when  thus  the  Son 
Communed  in  silent  walk,  then  laid  him  down 
Under  the  hospitable  covert  nigh 
Of  trees  thick  interwoven ;  there  he  slept, 
And  dream'd,  as  appetite  is  wont  to  dream, 
Of  meats  and  drinks,  nature's  refreshment  sweet. 
Him  thought,  he  by  the  brook  of  Cherith  stood, 
And  saw  the  ravens  with  their  horny  beaks  267 

Food  to  Elijah  bringing  even  and  morn, 
Tho'  ravenous,  taught  to  abstain  from  what  they  brought ; 
He  saw  the  prophet  also  how  he  fled 
Into  the  desert,  and  how  there  he  slept 
Under  a  juniper ;  then  how,  awaked, 
He  found  his  supper  on  the  coals  prepared, 
And  by  the  angel  was  bid  rise  and  eat, 
And  eat  the  second  time  after  repose, 
The  strength  whereof  sufficed  him  forty  days ; 
Sometimes  that  with  Elijah  he  partook, 
Or  as  a  guest  with  Daniel  at  his  pulse.  278 

Thus  wore  out  night,  and  now  the  herald  lark 
Left  his  ground-nest ;  high  towering  to  descry 
The  morn's  approach,  and  greet  her  with  his  song : 
As  lightly  from  his  grassy  couch  up  rose 
Our  Saviour,  and  found  all  was  but  a  dream : 
Fasting  he  went  to  sleep,  and  fasting  waked. 
Up  to  a  hill  anon  his  steps  he  rear'd, 
From  whose  high  top  to  ken  the  prospect  round, 
If  cottage  were  in  view,  sheep-cote,  or  herd ; 
But  cottage,  herd,  or  sheep-cote  none  he  saw, 
Only  in  a  bottom  saw  a  pleasant  grove,  289 


MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  IL 

"With  cliantof  tuneful  birds  resounding  loud ; 

Thither  he  bent  his  way,  determined  there 

To  rest  at  noon,  and  enter'd  soon  the  shade 

High  roof  d,  and  walks  beneath,  and  alleys  brown, 

That  open'd  in  the  midst  a  woody  scene ; 

Nature's  own  work  it  seem'd,  (nature  taught  art,) 

And  to  a  superstitious  eye  the  haunt 

Of  wood-gods  and  wood-nymphs :  he  view'd  it  round, 

When  suddenly  a  man  before  him  stood, 

Not  rustic  as  before,  but  seemlier  clad,  29$ 

As  one  in  city,  or  court,  or  palace  bred, 

And  with  fair  speech  these  words  to  him  addressed : 

"  With  granted  leave  officious  I  return, 
But  much  more  wonder  that  the  Son  of  God 
In  this  wild  solitude  so  long  should  bide 
Of  all  things  destitute,  and  well  I  know, 
Not  without  hunger.    Others  of  some  note, 
As  story  tells,  have  trod  this  wilderness ; 
The  fugitive  bond-woman  with  her  son, 
Outcast  Nebaioth,  yet  found  here  relief 
By  a  providing  angel ;  all  the  race  310 

Of  Israel  here  had  famish'd,  had  not  God 
Rain'd  from  Heaven  manna ;  and  that  prophet  boldr 
Native  of  Thebez,  wandering  here,  was  fed 
Twice  by  a  voice  inviting  him  to  eat: 
Of  thee  these  forty  days  none  hath  regard, 
Forty  and  more  deserted  here  indeed." 

To  whom  thus  Jesus :  "  What  conclud'st  thou  hence  ? 
They  all  had  need ;  I,  as  thou  seest,  have  none." 

"How  hast  thou  hunger  then?"  Satan  replied. 
"  Tell  me,  if  food  were  now  before  thee  set, 
Wouldst  thou  not  eat  ?"     "  Thereafter  as  I  like  321 

The  giver,"  answer'd  Jesus.     "  Why  should  that 
Cause  thy  refusal?"  said  the  subtle  fiend. 
"  Hast  thou  not  right  to  all  created  things  ? 
Owe  not  all  creatures  by  just  right  to  thee 
Duty  and  service,  not  to  stay  till  bid, 
But  tender  all  their  power?    Nor  mention  I 
Meats  by  the  law  unclean,  or  ofier'd  first 
To  idols,  those  young  Daniel  could  refuse ; 
Nor  proffer'd  by  an  enemy,  though  who 
Would  scruple  that,  with  want  oppressed  ?     Behold, 
Nature  ashamed,  or  better  to  express,  332 


B.  II.]  PARADISE    REGAINED.  325 

Troubled  that  thou  shouldst  hunger,  hath  purvey'd 
From  all  the  elements  her  choicest  store 
To  treat  thee  as  beseems,  and  as  her  Lord 
With  honor ;  only  deign  to  sit  and  eat." 

He  spake  no  dream,  for  as  his  words  had  end, 
Our  Saviour  lifting  up  his  eyes,  beheld 
In  ample  space  under  the  broadest  shade 
A  table  richly  spread,  in  regal  mode, 
With  dishes  piled,  and  meats  of  noblest  sort 
And  savor,  beasts  of  chase,  or  fowl  of  game,  342 

In  pastry  built,  or  from  the  spit,  or  boiPd, 
Gris-amber-steam'd ;  all  fish  from  sea  or  shore, 
Freshet,  or  purling  brook,  of  shell  or  fin, 
And  exquisitest  name,  for  which  was  drain'd 
Pontus,  and  Lucrine  bay,  and  Afric  coast. 
Alas,  how  simple,  to  these  cates  compared, 
Was  that  crude  apple  that  diverted  Eve ! 
And  at  a  stately  sideboard,  by  the  wine 
That  fragrant  smell  diffused,  in  order  stood 
Tall  strippling  youths  rich  clad,  of  fairer  hue 
Than  Ganyined  or  Hylas;  distant  more,  353 

Under  the  trees  now  tripp'd,  now  solemn  stood, 
Nymphs  of  Diana's  train,  and  Naiades 
With  fruits  and  flowers  from  Amalthea's  horn, 
And  ladies  of  the  Hesperides,  that  seem'd 
Fairer  than  feign'd  of  old,  or  fabled  since 
Of  fairy  damsels  met  in  forest  wide 
By  knights  of  Logres,  or  of  Lyones, 
Lancelot,  or  Pelleas,  or  Pellenore  : 
And  all  the  while  harmonious  airs  were  heard 
Of  chiming  strings,  or  charming  pipes,  and  winds 
Of  gentlest  gale  Arabian  odors  fann'd  364 

From  their  soft  wings,  and  Flora's  earliest  smells. 
Such  was  the  splendor,  and  the  tempter  now 
His  invitation  earnestly  renew'd : 

"What  doubts  the  Son  of  God  to  sit  and  eat? 
These  are  not  fruits  forbidden ;  no  interdict 
Defends  the  touching  of  these  viands  pure ; 
Their  taste  no  knowledge  works  at  least  of  evil, 
But  life  preserves,  destroys  life's  enemy, 
Hunger,  with  sweet  restorative  delight. 
All  these  are  spirits  of  air,  and  woods,  and  springs, 
Thy  gentle  ministers,  who  come  to  pay  375 

28 


326  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [u.  n 

Thee  homage,  and  acknowledge  thee  their  Lord : 
What  doubt'st  thou,  Son  of  God?    Sit  down  and  eat." 

To  whom  thus  Jesus  temperately  replied  : 
"Said'st  thou  not  that  to  all  things  I  had  right? 
And  who  withholds  my  power  that  right  to  use  ? 
Shall  I  receive  by  gift  what  of  my  own, 
When  and  where  likes  me  best,  I  can  command 9 
I  can  at  will,  doubt  not,  as  soon  as  thou, 
Command  a  table  in  this  wilderness, 
And  call  swift  flights  of  angels  ministrant  385 

Array'd  in  glory  on  my  cup  to  attend : 
"Why  shouldst  thou  then  obtrude  this  diligence, 
In  vain,  where  no  acceptance  it  can  find  ? 
And  with  my  hunger  what  hast  thou  to  do  ? 
Thy  pompous  delicacies  I  contemn, 
And  count  thy  specious  gifts  no  gifts,  but  guiles." 

To  whom  thus  answer'd  Satan  malcontent : 
"  That  I  have  also  power  to  give  thou  seest ; 
If  of  that  power  I  bring  thee  voluntary 
What  I  might  have  bestow'd  on  whom  I  pleased. 
And  rather  opportunely  in  this  place  396 

Chose  to  impart  to  thy  apparent  need, 
Why  shouldst  thou  not  accept  it  ?    But  I  see 
What  I  can  do  or  offer  is  suspect ; 
Of  these  things  others  quickly  will  dispose, 
Whose  pains  have  earn'd  the  far  fet  spoil."     With  that 
Both  table  and  provision  vanished  quite 
With  sound  of  harpies'  wings,  and  talons  heard ; 
Only  the  importune  tempter  still  remained, 
And  with  these  words  his  temptation  pursued  : 

"  By  hunger,  that  each  other  creature  tames, 
Thou  art  not  to  be  harm'd,  therefore  not  moved ;        407 
Thy  temperance  invincible  besides, 
For  no  allurement  yields  to  appetite. 
And  all  thy  heart  is  set  on  high  designs, 
High  actions ;  but  wherewith  to  be  achieved  ? 
Great  acts  require  great  means  of  enterprise  ; 
Thou  art  unknown,  unfriended,  low  of  birth, 
A  carpenter  thy  father  known,  thyself 
Bred  up  in  poverty  and  straits  at  home, 
Lost  in  a  desert  here  and  hunger-bit  : 
Which  way,  or  from  what  hope  dost  thou  aspire 
To  greatness  ?  whence  authority  deriv'st?  418 


B.  II.]  PARADISE    REGAINED.  32*7 

What  followers,  what  retinue  canst  thou  gain, 
Or  at  thy  heels  the  dizzy  multitude, 
Longer  than  thou  canst  feed  them  on  thy  cost  ? 
Money  brings  honor,  friends,  conquest,  and  realms : 
What  raised  Antipater  the  Edomite, 
And  his  son  Herod  placed  on  Judah's  throne, 
(Thy  throne,)  but  gold  that  got  him  puissant  friends  ? 
Therefore,  if  at  great  things  thou  wouldst  arrive, 
Get  riches  first,  get  wealth,  and  treasure  heap  ; 
Not  difficult,  if  thou  hearken  to  me :  428 

Riches  are  mine,  fortune  is  in  my  hand ; 
They  whom  I  favor  thrive  in  wealth  amain, 
While  virtue,  valor,  wisdom,  sit  in  want." 
To  whom  thus  Jesus  patiently  replied  : 
"  Yet  wealth  without  these  three  is  impotent 
To  gain  dominion,  or  to  keep  it  gain'd. 
Witness  those  ancient  empires  of  the  earth, 
In  height  of  all  their  flowing  wealth  dissolved : 
But  men  endued  with  these  have  oft  attained 
In  lowest  poverty  to  highest  deeds ; 
Gideon,  and  Jephthah.  and  the  shepherd  lad,  439 

Whose  offspring  on  the  throne  of  Judah  sat 
So  many  ages,  and  shall  yet  regain 
That  seat,  and  reign  in  Israel  without  end. 
Among  the  heathen,  (for  throughout  the  world 
To  me  is  not  unknown  what  hath  been  done 
Worthy  of  memorial,)  canst  thou  not  remember 
Quintius,  Fabricius,  Curius,  Regulus? 
For  I  esteem  those  names  of  men  so  poor 
Who  could  do  mighty  things,  and  could  contemn 
Riches,  though  offer'd  from  the  hand  of  kings. 
And  what  in  me  seems  wanting,  but  that  I  450 

May  also  in  this  poverty  as  soon 
Accomplish  what  they  did,  perhaps  and  more  ? 
Extol  not  riches  then,  the  toil  of  fools, 
The  wise  man's  cumbrance,  if  not  snare,  more  apt 
To  slacken  virtue,  and  abate  her  edge, 
Than  prompt  her  to  do  aught  may  merit  praise. 
What  if,  with  like  aversion,  I  reject 
Riches  and  realms  ;  yet  not  for  that  a  crown, 
Golden  in  show,  is  but  a  wreath  of  thorns, 
Brings  dangers,  troubles,  cares,  and  sleepless  nights 
To  him  who  wears  the  regal  diadem,  461 


328  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  11 

"\Vhen  on  his  shoulders  each  man's  burden  lies ; 

For  therein  stands  the  office  of  a  king, 

His  honor,  virtue,  merit,  and  chief  praise, 

That  for  the  public  all  this  weight  he  bears. 

Yet  he  who  reigns  within  himself,  and  rules 

Passions,  desires,  and  fears,  is  more  a  king ; 

Which  every  wise  and  virtuous  man  attains  : 

And  who  attains  not,  ill  aspires  to  rule 

Cities  of  men,  or  headstrong  multitudes, 

Subject  himself  to  anarchy  within,  471 

Or  lawless  passions  in  him  which  he  serves. 

But  to  guide  nations  in  the  way  of  truth 

By  saving  doctrine,  and  from  error  lead 

To  know,  and  knowing,  worship  God  aright, 

Is  yet  more  kingly :  this  attracts  the  soul. 

Governs  the  inner  man,  the  nobler  part : 

That  other  o'er  the  body  only  reigns, 

And  oft  by  force,  which,  to  a  generous  mind, 

So  reigning  can  be  no  sincere  delight. 

Besides,  to  give  a  kingdom  hath  been  thought 

Greater  and  nobler  done,  and  to  lay  down  482 

Far  more  magnanimous,  than  to  assume. 

Kiches  are  needless  then,  both  for  themselves, 

And  for  thy  reason  why  they  should  be  sought, 

To  gain  a  sceptre,  oftest  better  miss'd." 


PARADISE    REGAINED. 


BOOK  III. 

So  spake  the  Son  of  God,  and  Satan  stood 
A  while  as  mute  confounded  what  to  say, 
What  to  reply,  confuted  and  convinced 
Of  his  weak  arguing,  and  fallacious  drift ; 
At  length,  collecting  all  his  serpent  wiles, 
"With  soothing  words  renew'd,  him  thus  accosts : 

"  I  see  thou  know'st  what  is  of  use  to  know, 
"What  best  to  say  canst  say,  to  do  canst  do ; 
Thy  actions  to  thy  words  accord,  thy  words 
To  thy  large  heart  give  utterance  due,  thy  heart 
Contains  of  good,  wise,  just,  the  perfect  shape. 
Should  kings  and  nations  from  thy  mouth  consult, 
Thy  counsel  would  he  as  the  oracle 
Urim  and  Thummim,  those  oraculous  gems 
On  Aaron's  hreast ;  or  tongue  of  seers  old 
Infallible :  or  wert  thou  sought  to  deeds 
That  might  require  the  array  of  war,  thy  skill 
Of  conduct  would  be  such,  that  all  the  world 
Could  not  sustain  thy  prowess,  or  subsist 
In  battle,  though  against  thy  few  in  arms.  20 

These  godlike  virtues  wherefore  dost  thou  hide, 
Affecting  private  life,  or  more  obscure 
In  savage  wilderness  ?    "Wherefore  deprive 
All  earth  her  wonder  at  thy  acts,  thyself 
The  fame  and  glory, — glory,  the  reward 
That  sole  excites  to  high  attempts,  the  flame 
Of  most  erected  spirits,  most  tempered  pure 
Ethereal,  who  all  pleasures  else  despise, 
All  treasures  and  all  gain  esteem  as  dross, 
And  dignities  and  powers  all  but  the  highest? 
Thy  years  are  ripe,  and  over-ripe ;  the  son 


330  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  in 

Of  Macedonian  Philip  had  ere  these 

Won  Asia,  and  the  throne  of  Cyrus  held 

At  his  dispose ;  young  Scipio  had  brought  down 

The  Carthaginian  pride ;  young  Pompey  quell'd 

The  Pontic  king,  and  in  triumph  had  rode. 

Yet  years,  and  to  ripe  years  judgment  mature, 

Quench  not  the  thirst  of  glory,  but  augment. 

Great  Julius,  whom  now  all  the  world  admires, 

The  more  he  grew  in  years,  the  more  inflamed 

"With  glory,  wept  that  he  had  lived  so  long  41 

Inglorious  :  but  thou  yet  art  not  too  late." 

To  whom  our  Saviour  calmly  thus  replied : 
"  Thou  neither  dost  persuade  me  to  seek  wealth 
For  empire's  sake,  nor  empire  to  affect 
For  glory's  sake,  by  all  thy  argument. 
For  what  is  glory  but  the  blaze  of  fame, 
The  people's  praise,  if  always  praise  unmix'd  ? 
And  what  the  people  but  a  herd  confused, 
A  miscellaneous  rabble,  who  extol 
Things  vulgar,  and,  well  weigh'd,  scarce  worth  the  praise? 
They  praise,  and  they  admire  they  know  not  what,      52 
And  know  not  whom,  but  as  one  leads  the  other ; 
And  what  delight  to  be  by  such  extoll'd, 
To  live  upon  their  tongues  and  be  their  talk, 
Of  whom  to  be  dispraised  were  no  small  praise  ? 
His  lot  who  dares  be  singularly  good. 
The  intelligent  among  them  and  the  wise 
Are  few,  and  glory  scarce  of  few  is  raised. 
This  is  true  glory  and  renown,  when  God, 
Looking  on  the  earth,  with  approbation  marks 
The  just  man,  and  divulges  him  through  Heaven 
To  all  his  angels,  who  with  true  applause  63 

Recount  his  praises :  thus  he  did  to  Job, 
When  to  extend  his  fame  through  Heaven  and  earth, 
As  thou  to  thy  reproach  mayst  well  remember, 
He  ask'd  thee,  'Hast  thou  seen  my  servant  Job?' 
Famous  he  was  in  Heaven,  on  earth  less  known ; 
Where  glory  is  false  glory,  attributed 
To  things  not  glorious,  men  not  worthy  of  fame. 
They  err  who  count  it  glorious  to  subdue 
By  conquest  far  and  wide,  to  overrun 
Large  countries,  and  in  fields  great  battles  win, 
Great  cities  by  assault :  what  do  these  worthies,          74 


B.  III.]  PARADISE    REGAINED.  331 

But  rob  and  spoil,  burn,  slaughter,  and  enslave 
Peaceable  nations,  neighboring  or  remote, 
Made  captive,  yet  deserving  freedom  more 
Than  those  their  conquerors,  who  leave  behind 
Nothing  but  ruin  wheresoe'er  they  rove, 
And  all  the  flourishing  works  of  peace  destroy, 
Then  swell  with  pride,  and  must  be  titled  gods, 
Great  benefactors  of  mankind,  deliverers, 
"Worshipp'd  with  temple,  priest,  and  sacrifice ; 
One  is  the  son  of  Jove,  of  Mars  the  other ;  84 

Till  conqueror  Death  discover  them  scarce  men, 
Rolling  in  brutish  vices,  and  deform'd, 
Violent  or  shameful  death  their  due  reward. 
But  if  there  be  in  glory  aught  of  good, 
It  may  by  means  far  different  be  attained 
"Without  ambition,  war,  or  violence ; 
By  deeds  of  peace,  by  wisdom  eminent, 
By  patience,  temperance :  I  mention  still 
Him  whom  thy  wrongs  with  saintly  patience  bor  tie 
Made  famous  in  a  land  and  times  obscure ; 
Who  names  not  now  with  honor  patient  Job  ?  95 

Poor  Socrates  (who  next  more  memorable  ?) 
By  what  he  taught,  and  suffer'd  for  so  doing, 
For  truth's  sake  suffering  death  unjust,  lives  now 
Equal  in  fame  to  proudest  conquerors. 
Yet  if  for  fame  and  glory  aught  be  done, 
Aught  suffer'd ;  if  young  African  for  fame 
His  wasted  country  freed  from  Punic  rage, 
The  deed  becomes  unpraised,  the  man  at  least, 
And  loses,  though  but  verbal,  his  reward.  m 

Shall  I  seek  glory  then,  as  vain  men  seek, 
Oft  not  deserved?  I  seek  not  mine,  but  his  106 

"Who  sent  me,  and  thereby  witness  whence  I  am.1' 
To  whom  the  tempter  murmuring  thus  replied  : 
'  Think  not  so  slight  of  glory ;  therein  least 
Resembling  thy  great  Father :  he  seeks  glory, 
And  for  his  glory  all  things  made,  all  things 
Orders  and  governs ;  nor  content  in  Heaven 
By  all  his  angels  glorified,  requires 
Glory  from  men,  from  all  men,  good  or  bad, 
Wise  or  unwise,  no  difference,  no  exemption : 
Above  all  sacrifice  or  hallow 'd  gift 
Glory  he  requires,  and  glory  he  receives  117 


532  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  in 

Promiscuous  from  all  nations,  Jew,  or  Greek, 
Or  barbarous,  nor  exception  hath  declared ; 
From  us,  his  foes  pronounced,  glory  he  exacts." 

To  whom  our  Saviour  fervently  replied : 
"  And  reason ;  since  his  word  all  things  produced, 
Though  chiefly  not  for  glory  as  prime  end, 
But  to  show  forth  his  goodness,  and  impart 
His  good  communicable  to  every  soul 
Freely ;  of  whom  what  could  he  less  expect 
Than  glory  and  benediction,  that  is,  thanks,  127 

The  slightest,  easiest,  readiest  recompense 
From  them  who  could  return  him  nothing  else, 
And,  not  returning  that,  would  likeliest  render 
Contempt  instead,  dishonor,  obloquy  ? 
Hard  recompense,  unsuitable  return 
For  so  much  good,  so  much  beneficence. 
But  why  should  man  seek  glory,  who  of  his  own 
Hath  nothing,  and  to  whom  nothing  belongs 
But  condemnation,  ignominy,  and  shame  ? 
Who  for  so  many  benefits  received 
Turn'd  recreant  to  God,  ingrate  and  false,  138 

And  so  of  all  true  good  himself  despoil'd, 
Yet,  sacrilegious,  to  himself  would  take 
That  which  to  God  alone  of  right  belongs : 
Yet  so  much  bounty  is  in  God,  such  grace, 
That  who  advance  his  glory,  not  their  own, 
Them  he  himself  to  glory  will  advance." 

So  spake  the  Son  of  God ;  and  here  again 
Satan  had  not  to  answer,  but  stood  struck 
•With  guilt  of  his  own  sin,  for  he  himself 
Insatiable  of  glory  had  lost  all, 
Yet  of  another  plea  bethought  him  soon.  149 

"  Of  glory,  as  thou  wilt,"  said  he,  "  so  deem, 
Worth  or  not  worth  the  seeking,  let  it  pass : 
But  to  a  kingdom  thou  art  born,  ordained 
To  sit  upon  thy  father  David's  throne ; 
By  mother's  side  thy  father ;  though  thy  right 
Be  now  in  powerful  hands,  that  will  not  part 
Easily  from  possession  won  with  arms : 
Judea  now,  and  all  the  promised  land, 
Beduced  a  province  under  Roman  yoke, 
Obeys  Tiberius;  nor  is  always  ruled 
With  temperate  sway;  oft  have  they  violated  160 


B.  III.]  PARADISE   REGAINED,  333 

The  temple,  oft  the  law  with  foul  affronts, 

Abominations  rather,  as  did  once 

Antiochus :  and  think'st  thou  to  regain 

Thy  right  by  sitting  still  or  thus  retiring  ? 

So  did  not  Maccabeus ;  he  indeed 

Retired  unto  the  desert,  but  with  arms ; 

And  o'er  a  mighty  king  so  oft  prevail'd, 

That  by  strong  hand  his  family  obtain'd, 

Though  priests,  the  crown,  and  David's  throne  usurp'd, 

With  Modin  and  her  suburbs  once  content.  17C 

If  kingdom  move  thee  not,  let  move  thee  zeal 

And  duty ;  zeal  and  duty  are  not  slow ; 

But  on  occasion's  forelock  watchful  wait. 

They  themselves  rather  are  occasion  best, 

Zeal  of  thy  Father's  house,  duty  to  free 

Thy  country  from  her  heathen  servitude ; 

So  shalt  thou  best  fulfil,  best  verify 

The  prophets  old,  who  sung  thy  endless  reign ; 

The  happier  reign  the  sooner  it  begins : 

Keign  then ;  what  canst  thou  better  do  the  while  ?" 

To  whom  our  Saviour  answer  thus  return'd:  l£l 

"  All  things  are  best  fulfill'd  in  their  due  time, 
And  time  there  is  for  all  things,  Truth  hath  said : 
If  of  my  reign  prophetic  writ  hath  told, 
That  it  shall  never  end,  so  when  begin 
The  Father  in  his  purpose  hath  decreed, 
He  in  whose  hand  all  times  and  seasons  roll. 
"What  if  he  hath  decreed  that  I  shall  first 
Be  tried  in  humble  state,  and  things  adverse, 
By  tribulations,  injuries,  insults, 
Contempts,  and  scorns,  and  snares,  and  violence, 
Suffering,  abstaining,  quietly  expecting,  192 

"Without  distrust  or  doubt,  that  he  may  know 
"What  I  can  suffer,  how  obey  ?    Who  best 
Can  suffer,  best  can  do ;  best  reign,  who  first 
Well  hath  obey'd ;  just  trial  ere  I  merit 
My  exaltation  without  change  or  end. 
But  what  concerns  it  thee  when  I  begin 
My  everlasting  kingdom  ?  why  art  thou 
Solicitous?  what  moves  thy  inquisition? 
Know'st  thou  not  that  my  rising  is  thy  fall, 
And  my  promotion  will  be  thy  destruction  ?" 

To  whom  the  tempter,  inly  rack'd,  replied :  203 


334:  AIILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  in 

"Let  that  come  when  it  comes ;  all  hope  is  lost 

Of  my  reception  into  grace  ;  what  worse  ? 

For  where  nc  hope  is  left,  is  left  no  fear : 

If  there  be  worse,  the  expectation  more 

Of  worse  torments  me  than  the  feeling  can. 

I  would  be  at  the  worst ;  worst  is  my  port, 

My  harbor  and  my  ultimate  repose, 

The  end  I  would  attain,  my  final  good. 

My  error  was  my  error,  and  my  crime 

My  crime ;  whatever  for  itself  condemned, 

And  will  alike  be  punish'd,  whether  thou  214 

Reign  or  reign  not ;  though  to  that  gentle  brow 

Willingly  I  could  fly,  and  hope  thy  reign, 

From  that  placid  aspect  and  meek  regard, 

Rather  than  aggravate  my  evil  state, 

Would  stand  between  me  and  thy  Father's  ire, 

(Whose  ire  I  dread  more  than  the  fire  of  Hell,) 

A  shelter  and  a  kind  of  shading  cool 

Interposition,  as  a  summer's  cloud. 

If  I  then  to  the  worst  that  can  be  haste, 

Why  move  thy  feet  so  slow  to  what  is  best,  224 

Happiest  both  to  thyself  and  all  the  world, 

That  thou  who  worthiest  art  shouldst  be  their  king? 

Perhaps  thou  linger'st  in  deep  thoughts  detain'd 

Of  the  enterprise  so  hazardous  and  high  ; 

No  wonder,  for  though  in  thee  be  united 

What  of  perfection  can  in  man  be  found, 

Or  human  nature  can  receive,  consider 

Thy  life  hath  yet  been  private,  most  part  spent 

At  home,  scarce  view'd  the  Galilean  towns, 

And  once  a  year  Jerusalem,  few  days'  234 

Short  sojourn ;  and  what  thence  couldst  thou  observe  ? 

The  world  thou  hast  not  seen,  much  less  her  glory, 

Empires  and  monarchs,  and  their  radiant  courts, 

Best  school  of  best  experience,  quickest  insight 

In  all  things  that  to  greatest  actions  lead. 

The  wisest,  unexperienced,  will  be  ever 

Timorous  and  loth,  with  novice  modesty 

(As  he  who,  seeking  asses,  found  a  kingdom) 

Irresolute,  unhardy,  unad venturous : 

But  I  will  bring  thee  where  thou  soon  shalt  quit 

Those  rudiments,  and  see  before  thine  eyes 

The  monarchies  of  the  earth,  their  pomp  and  state,    246 


B.  II1.J  PARADISE    REGAINED.  335 

Sufficient  introduction  to  inform 
Thee,  of  thyself  so  apt,  in  regal  arts, 
And  regal  mysteries,  that  thou  mayst  know 
How  best  their  opposition  to  withstand." 

"With  that  (such  power  was  given  him  then)  he  took 
The  Son  of  God  up  to  a  mountain  high. 
It  was  a  mountain  at  whose  verdant  feet 
A  spacious  plain,  outstretch'd  in  circuit  wide, 
Lay  pleasant;  from  his  side  two  rivers  flowM, 
The  one  winding,  the  other  straight,  and  left  between 
Fair  champaign  with  less  rivers  intervein'd,  257 

Then  meeting,  join'd  their  tribute  to  the  sea : 
Fertile  of  corn  the  glebe,  of  oil,  and  wine ; 
With  herds  the  pastures  throng'd,  with  flocks  the  hills ; 
Huge  cities  and  high  tower'd,  that  well  might  seem 
The  seats  of  mightiest  monarchs,  and  so  large 
The  prospect  was,  that  here  and  there  was  room 
For  barren  desert,  fountainless  and  dry. 
To  this  high  mountain-top  the  tempter  brought 
Our  Saviour,  and  new  train  of  words  began : 

u  Well  have  we  speeded,  and  o'er  hill  and  dale,       267 
Forest  and  field  and  flood,  temples  and  towers, 
Cut  shorter  many  a  league ;  here  thou  behold'st 
Assyria  and  her  empire's  ancient  bounds, 
Araxes  and  the  Caspian  lake,  thence  on 
As  far  as  Indus  east,  Euphrates  west, 
And  oft  beyond ;  to  south  the  Persian  bay, 
And  inaccessible  the  Arabian  drouth : 
Here  Nineveh,  of  length  within  her  wall 
Several  days'  journey,  built  by  Ninus  old, 
Of  that  first  golden  monarchy  the  seat,  277 

And  seat  of  Salrnanassar,  whose  success 
Israel  in  long  captivity  still  mourns ; 
There  Babylon,  the  wonder  of  all  tongues, 
As  ancient,  but  rebuilt  by  him  who  twice 
Judah  and  all  thy  father  David's  house 
Led  captive,  and  Jerusalem  laid  waste, 
Till  Cyrus  set  them  free ;  Persepolis 
His  city  there  thou  seest,  and  Bactra  there ; 
Ecbatana  her  structure  vast  there  shows, 
And  Hecatompylos  her  hundred  gates ; 
There  Susa  by  Choaspes,  amber  stream, 
The  drink  of  none  but  kings ;  of  later  fame  280 


336  MILi'ON's    POETICAL    WORKS.  [B.  Ill 

Built  by  Emathian,  or  by  Parthian  hands, 

The  great  Seleucia,  Nisibis,  and  there 

Artaxata,  Teredon,  Ctesiphon, 

Turning  with  easy  eye  thou  mayst  behold. 

All  these  the  Parthian,  now  some  ages  past, 

By  great  Arsaces  led,  who  founded  first 

That  empire,  under  his  dominion  holds, 

From  the  luxurious  kings  of  Antioch  won. 

And  just  in  time  thou  com'st  to  have  a  view 

Of  his  great  power;  for  now  the  Parthian  king          299 

In  Ctesiphon  hath  gathered  all  his  host 

Against  the  Scythian,  whose  incursions  wild 

Have  wasted  Sogdiana ;  to  her  aid 

He  marches  now  in  haste :  see,  though  from  far, 

His  thousands,  in  what  martial  equipage 

They  issue  forth,  steel  bows  and  shafts  their  arms, 

Of  equal  dread  in  flight  or  in  pursuit ; 

All  horsemen,  in  which  fight  they  most  excel ; 

See  how  in  warlike  muster  they  appear, 

In  rhombs  and  wedges,  and  half-moons  and  wings." 

He  look'd,  and  saw  what  numbers  numberless         310 
The  city  gates  out-pour'd,  light-armed  troops 
In  coats  of  mail  and  military  pride ; 
In  mail  their  horses  clad,  yet  fleet  and  strong, 
Prancing  their  riders  bore,  the  flower  and  choice 
Of  many  provinces  from  bound  to  bound ; 
From  Arachosia,  from  Candaor  east, 
And  Margiana  to  the  Hyrcanian  cliffs 
Of  Caucasus,  and  dark  Iberian  dales, 
From  Atropasia  and  the  neighboring  plains 
Of  Adiabene,  Media,  and  the  south 
Of  Susiana,  to  Balsara's  haven.  321 

He  saw  them  in  their  forms  of  battle  ranged, 
How  quick  they  wheel'd,  and  flying  behind  them  shot 
Sharp  sleet  of  arrowy  showers  against  the  face 
Of  their  pursuers,  and  overcame  by  flight ; 
The  field  all  iron  cast  a  gleaming  brown : 
Nor  wanted  clouds  of  foot,  nor  on  each  horn 
Cuirassiers  all  in  steel  for  standing  fight, 
Chariots  or  elephants  indorsed  with  towers 
Of  archers,  nor  of  laboring  pioneers 
A  multitude  with  spades  and  axes  arm'd 
To  lay  hills  plain,  fell  woods,  or  valleys  fill,  332 


C.  III.]  PARADISE    REGAINED.  337 

Or  where  plain  was  raise  hill,  or  overlay 
With  bridges  rivers  proud,  as  with  a  yoke ; 
Mules  after  these,  camels  and  dromedaries, 
And  wagons  fraught  with  utensils  of  war. 
Such  forces  met  not,  nor  so  wide  a  camp, 
When  Agrican  with  all  his  northern  powers 
Besieged  Albracca,  as  romances  tell, 
The  city  of  Gallaphrone,  from  thence  to  win 
The  fairest  of  her  sex,  Angelica 

His  daughter,  sought  by  many  prowest  knights,         342 
Both  Paynim,  and  the  peers  of  Charlemain. 
-  Such  and  so  numerous  was  their  chivalry ; 
At  sight  whereof  the  fiend  yet  more  presumed, 
And  to  our  Saviour  thus  his  words  renew'd : 

u  That  thou  mayst  know  I  seek  not  to  engage 
Thy  virtue,  and  not  every  way  secure 
On  no  slight  grounds  thy  safety ;  hear,  and  mark 
To  what  end  I  have  brought  thee  hither  and  shown 
All  this  fair  sight :  thy  kingdom,  though  foretold 
By  prophet  or  by  angel,  unless  thou 
Endeavor,  as  thy  father  David  did,  353 

Thou  never  shalt  obtain :  prediction  still 
In  all  things,  and  all  men,  supposes  means; 
Without  means  used,  what  it  predicts  revokes. 
But  say  thou  wert  possess'd  of  David's  throne 
By  free  consent  of  all,  none  opposite, 
Samaritan  or  Jew ;  how  couldst  thou  hope 
Long  to  enjoy  it  quiet  and  secure, 
Between  two  such  inclosing  enemies, 
Roman  and  Parthian  ?     Therefore  one  of  these 
Thou  must  make  sure  thy  own  :  the  Parthian  first, 
By  my  advice,  as  nearer,  and  of  late  364 

Found  able  by  invasion  to  annoy 
Thy  country,  and  captive  lead  away  her  kings, 
Antigonus  and  old  Hyrcanus,  bound, 
Maugre  the  Roman :  it  shall  be  my  task 
To  render  thee  the  Parthian  at  dispose ; 
Choose  which  thou  wilt,  by  conquest  or  by  league. 
By  him  thou  shalt  regain,  without  him  not, 
That  which  alone  can  truly  reinstall  thee 
In  David's  royal  seat,  his  true  successor, 
Deliverance  of  thy  brethren,  those  ten  tribes 
Whose  offspring  in  his  territory  yet  serve,  375 

29 


MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  m 

In  Habor,  and  among  the  Medes  dispersed ; 

Ten  sons  of  Jacob,  two  of  Joseph,  lost 

Thus  long  from  Israel,  serving  as  of  old 

Their  fathers  in  the  land  of  Egypt  served, 

This  offer  sets  before  thee  to  deliver. 

These  if  from  servitude  thou  shalt  restore 

To  their  inheritance,  then,  nor  till  then, 

Thou  on  the  throne  of  David  in  full  glory, 

From  Egypt  to  Euphrates,  and  beyond, 

Shalt  reign,  and  Rome  or  Caesar  not  need  fear."          385 

To  whom  our  Saviour  answer' d  thus  unmoved : 
44  Much  ostentation  vain  of  fleshly  arm, 
And  fragile  arms,  much  instrument  of  war 
Long  in  preparing,  soon  to  nothing  brought, 
Before  mine  eyes  thou  hast  set ;  and  in  my  ear 
Vented  much  policy,  and  projects  deep 
Of  enemies,  of  aids,  battles,  and  leagues, 
Plausible  to  the  world,  to  me  worth  naught. 
Means  I  must  use,  thou  say'st,  prediction  else 
"Will  unpredict  and  fail  me  of  the  throne : 
My  time,  I  told  thee,  (and  that  time  for  thee  396 

"Were  better  farthest  off,)  is  not  yet  come ; 
"When  that  comes,  think  not  thou  to  find  me  slack 
On  my  part  aught  endeavoring,  or  to  need 
Thy  politic  maxims,  or  that  cumbersome 
Luggage  of  war  there  shown  me,  argument 
Of  human  weakness  rather  than  of  strength. 
My  brethren,  as  thou  call'st  them,  those  ten  tribes 
I  must  deliver,  if  I  mean  to  reign 
David's  true  heir,  and  his  full  sceptre  sway 
To  just  extent  over  all  Israel's  sons. 
But  whence  to  thee  this  zeal  ?    Where  was  it  then     407 
For  Israel,  or  for  David,  or  his  throne, 
"When  thou  stood'st  up  his  tempter  to  the  pride 
Of  numbering  Israel,  which  cost  the  lives 
Of  threescore  and  ten  thousand  Israelites 
By  three  days'  pestilence  ?     Such  was  thy  zeal 
To  Israel  then,  the  same  that  now  to  me. 
As  for  those  captive  tribes,  themselves  were  they 
"Who  wrought  their  own  captivity ;  fell  off 
From  God  to  worship  calves,  the  deities 
Of  Egypt ;  Baal  next  and  Ashtaroth, 
And  all  the  idolatries  of  heathen  round,  418 


B.  III.]  PARADISE    REGAINED.  339 

Besides  their  other  worse  than  heathenish  crimes ; 
ISTor  in  the  land  of  their  captivity 
Humbled  themselves,  or  penitent  besought 
The  God  of  their  forefathers ;  but  so  died 
Impenitent,  and  left  a  race  behind 
Like  to  themselves,  distinguishable  scarce 
From  Gentiles,  but  by  circumcision  vain, 
And  God  with  idols  in  their  worship  join'd. 
Should  I  of  these  the  liberty  regard, 
Who  freed,  as  to  their  ancient  patrimony, 
Unhumbled,  unrepentant,  unreform'd, 
Headlong  would  follow ;  and  to  their  gods  perhaps 
Of  Bethel  and  of  Dan?    No,  let  them  serve 
Their  enemies,  who  serve  idols  with  God. 
Yet  he  at  length,  time  to  himself  best  known, 
Remembering  Abraham,  by  some  wondrous  call 
May  bring  them  back  repentant  and  sincere, 
And  at  their  passing  cleave  the  Assyrian  flood, 
While  to  their  native  land  with  joy  they  haste, 
As  the  Red  Sea  and  Jordan  once  he  cleft, 
When  to  the  promised  land  their  fathers  passed ; 
To  his  due  time  and  providence  I  leave  them." 
So  spake  Israel's  true  king,  and  to  the  fiend 
Made  answer  meet,  that  made  void  all  his  wiles.. 
So  fares  it  when  with  truth  falsehood  contends. 


PARADISE    REGAINED. 


BOOK  IV. 

PEEPLEX'D  and  troubled  at  his  bad  success 

The  tempter  stood,  nor  had  what  to  reply, 

Discover'd  in  his  fraud,  thrown  from  his  hope 

So  oft,  and  the  persuasive  rhetoric 

That  sleek'd  his  tongue,  and  won  so  much  on  Eve. 

So  little  here,  nay  lost ;  but  Eve  was  Eve, 

This  far  his  over-match,  who,  self-deceived 

And  rash,  beforehand  had  no  better  weigh'd 

The  strength  he  was  to  cope  with,  or  his  own :  9 

But  as  a  man  who  had  been  matchless  held 

In  cunning,  overreach'd  where  least  he  thought, 

To  salve  his  credit,  and  for  very  spite, 

Still  will  be  tempting  hijn  who  foils  him  still, 

And  never  cease,  though  to  his  shame  the  more ; 

Or  as  a  swarm  of  flies  in  vintage  time, 

About  the  wine-press  where  sweet  must  is  pour'd, 

Beat  off,  returns  as  oft  with  humming  sound ; 

Or  surging  waves  against  a  solid  rock, 

Though  all  to  shivers  dash'd,  the  assault  renew, 

Vain  battery,  and  in  froth  or  bubbles  end ;  20 

So  Satan,  whom  repulse  upon  repulse 

Met  ever,  and  to  shameful  silence  brought, 

Yet  gives  not  o'er,  though  desperate  of  success, 

A.nd  his  vain  importunity  pursues. 

He  brought  our  Saviour  to  the  western  side 

Of  that  high  mountain,  whence  he  might  behold 

Another  plain,  long,  but  in  breadth  not  wide, 

Wash'd  by  the  southern  sea,  and  on  the  north 

To  equal  length  back'd  with  a  ridge  of  hills, 

That  screened  the  fruits  of  the  earth  and  seats  of  men 

From  cold  septentrion  blasts;  thence  in  the  midst       31 


B.  IV.]  PARADISE    REGAINED.  341 

Divided  by  a  river,  of  whose  banks 
On  each  side  an  imperial  city  stood, 
With  towers  and  temples  proudly  elevate 
On  seven  small  hills,  with  palaces  adorn'd, 
Porches  and  theatres,  baths,  aqueducts, 
Statues  and  trophies,  and  triumphal  arcs, 
Gardens  and  groves,  presented  to  his  eyes, 
Above  the  height  of  mountains  interposed : 
By  what  strange  parallax  or  optic  skill 
Of  vision  multiplied  through  air,  or  glass 
Of  telescope,  were  curious  to  inquire  : 
And  now  the  tempter  thus  his  silence  broke : 
"  The  city  which  thou  seest  no  other  deem 
Than  great  and  glorious  Rome,  queen  of^the  earth 
So  far  renown'd,  and  with  the  spoils  enrich'd 
Of  nations  :  there  the  capitol  thou  seest 
Above  the  rest  lifting  his  stately  head 
On  the  Tarpeian  rock,  her  citadel 
Impregnable  ;  and  there  mount  Palatine, 
The  imperial  palace,  compass  huge,  and  high 
The  structure,  skill  of  noblest  architects,  52 

With  gilded  battlements,  conspicuous  far, 
Turrets  and  terraces,  and  glittering  spires. 
Many  a  fair  edifice  besides,  more  like 
Houses  of  gods,  (so  well  I  have  disposed 
My  airy  microscrope,)  thou  mayst  behold 
Outside  and  inside  both,  pillars  and  roofs, 
Carved  work,  the  hand  of  famed  artificers 
In  cedar,  marble,  ivory,  or  gold. 
Thence  to  the  gates  cast  round  thine  eye,  and  see 
"What  conflux  issuing  forth,  or  entering  in, — 
Pretors,  proconsuls  to  their  provinces  63 

Hasting,  or  on  return,  in  robes  of  state ; 
Lictors  and  rods,  the  ensigns  of  their  power, 
Legions  and  cohorts,  turms  of  horse  and  wings : 
Or  embassies  from  regions  far  remote 
In  various  habits  on  the  Appian  road, 
Or  on  the  JEmilian,  some  from  farthest  south, 
Syene,  and  where  the  shadow  both  way  falls, 
Meroe,  Nilotic  isle,  and  more  to  west, 
The  realm  of  Bocchus  to  the  Black-moor  sea; 
From  the  Asian  kings,  and  Parthian  among  these, 
From  India  and  the  golden  Chersonese,  74 


;-j  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  jv 

And  utmost  Indian  isle,  Taprobane, 
Dusk  faces  with  white  silken  turbans  wreathed ; 
From  Gallia,  Gades,  and  the  British  west, 
Germans  and  Scythians,  and  Sarmatians  north 
Beyond  Danubius  to  the  Tauric  pooL 
All  nations  now  to  Rome  obedience  pay, 
To  Rome's  great  emperor,  whose  wide  domain 
In  ample  territory,  wealth,  and  power, 
Civility  of  manners,  arts  and  arms, 
And  long  renown,  thou  justly  mayst  prefer  84 

Before  the  Parthian ;  these  two  thrones  except, 
The  rest  are  barbarous,  and  scarce  worth  the  sight, 
Shared  among  petty  kings  too  far  removed : 
These  having  shown  thee,  I  have  shown  thee  all 
The  kingdoms  of  the  world,  and  all  their  glory. 
This  emperor  hath  no  son,  and  now  is  old, 
Old  and  lascivious,  and  from  Rome  retired 
To  Capre99,  an  island  small  but  strong, 
On  the  Oampanian  shore,  with  purpose  there 
His  horrid  lusts  in  private  to  enjoy, 
Committing  to  a  wicked  favorite  9o 

All  public  cares,  and  yet  of  him  suspicious, 
Hated  of  all,  and  hating ;  with  what  ease, 
Indued  with  regal  virtues  as  thou  art, 
Appearing,  and  beginning  noble  deeds, 
Might'st  thou  expel  this  monster  from  his  throne, 
Now  made  a  sty,  and,  in  his  place  ascending, 
A  victor  people  free  from  servile  yoke  ? 
And  with  my  help  thou  mayst ;  to  me  the  power 
Is  given,  and  by  that  right  I  give  it  thee. 
Aim  therefore  at  no  less  than  all  the  world, 
Aim  at  the  highest,  without  the  highest  attained          106 
Will  be  for  thee  no  sitting,  or  not  long, 
On  David's  throne,  be  prophesied  what  will." 
To  whom  the  Son  of  God  unmoved  replied : 
"  Nor  doth  this  grandeur  and  majestic  show 
Of  luxury,  though  call'd  magnificence, 
More  than  of  arms  before,  allure  mine  eye, 
Much  less  my  mind :  though  thou  shouldst  add  to  tell 
Their  sumptuous  gluttonies,  and  gorgeous  feasts 
On  Citron  tables  or  Atlantic  stone, 
(For  I  have  also  heard,  perhaps  have  read,) 
Their  wines  of  Setia,  Cales,  and  Falerne,  117 


,  IV.]  PARADISE    REGAINED.  343 

Chios,  and  Crete,  and  how  they  quaff  in  gold, 

Crystal,  and  myrrhine  cups,  imboss'd  with  gems 

And  studs  of  pearl,  to  me  should'st  tell  who  thirst 

And  hunger  still.    Then  embassies  thou  show'st 

From  nations  far  and  nigh  :  what  honor  that, 

But  tedious  waste  of  time  to  sit  and  hear 

So  many  hollow  compliments  and  lies, 

Outlandish  flatteries  ?     Then  proceed'st  to  talk 

Of  the  emperor,  how  easily  subdued, 

How  gloriously;  I  shall,  thou  say'st,  expel  127 

A  brutish  monster :  what  if  I  withal 

Expel  a  devil  who  first  made  him  such  ? 

Let  his  tormentor,  conscience,  find  him  out ; 

For  him  I  was  not  sent,  nor  yet  to  free 

That  people  victor  once,  now  vile  and  base, 

Deservedly  made  vassal,  who  once  just, 

Frugal,  and  mild,  and  temperate,  conquer'd  well, 

But  govern  ill  the  nations  under  yoke, 

Peeling  their  provinces,  exhausted  all 

By  lust  and  rapine ;  first  ambitious  grown 

Of  triumph,  that  insulting  vanity ;  138 

Then  cruel,  by  their  sports  to  blood  inured 

Of  fighting  beasts,  and  men  to  beasts  exposed, 

Luxurious  by  their  wealth,  and  greedier  still, 

And  from  the  daily  scene  effeminate. 

What  wise  and  valiant  man  would  seek  to  free 

These  thus  degenerate,  by  themselves  enslaved, 

Or  could  of  inward  slaves  make  outward  free  ? 

Know,  therefore,  when  my  season  comes  to  sit 

On  David's  throne,  it  shall  be  like  a  tree 

Spreading  and  overshadowing  all  the  earth  ; 

Or  as  a  stone  that  shall  to  pieces  dash  149 

All  monarchies  besides  throughout  the  world ; 

And  of  my  kingdom  there  shall  be  no  end : 

Means  there  shall  be  to  this,  but  what  the  means, 

Is  not  for  thee  to  know,  nor  me  to  tell." 

To  whom  the  tempter  impudent  replied : 
"  I  see  all  offers  made  by  me  how  slight 
Thou  valuest,  because  offer'd,  and  reject'st : 
Nothing  will  please  the  difficult  and  nice, 
Or  nothing  more  than  still  to  contradict : 
On  the  other  side,  know  also  thou,  that  I 
On  what  I  offer  set  as  high  esteem,  160 


344  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  rv 

Nor  what  I  peart  with  mean  to  give  for  naught : 
All  these  which  in  a  moment  thou  behold'st, 
The  kingdoms  of  the  world,  to  thee  I  give ; 
For,  given  to  me,  I  give  to  whom  I  please, 
Xo  trifle ;  yet  with  this  reserve,  not  else, 
On  this  condition,  if  thou  wilt  fall  down 
And  worship  me  as  thy  superior  lord ; 
Easily  done,  and  hold  them  all  of  me ; 
For  what  can  less  so  great  a  gift  deserve  ?" 

Whom  thus  our  Saviour  answer'd  with  disdain :      170 
"  I  never  liked  thy  talk,  thy  offers  less, 
Xow  both  abhor,  since  thou  hast  dared  to  utter 
The  abominable  terms,  impious  condition ; 
But  I  endure  the  time,  till  which  expired, 
Thou  hast  permission  on  me.     It  is  written 
The  first  of  all  commandments,  Thou  shalt  worship 
The  Lord  thy  God,  and  only  him  shalt  serve : 
And  dar'st  thou  to  the  Son  of  God  propound 
To  worship  thee,  accursed,  now  more  accursed 
For  this  attempt,  bolder  than  that  on  Eve, 
And  more  blasphemous  ?  which  expect  to  rue.  181 

The  kingdoms  of  the  world  to  thee  were  given, 
|  Permitted,  rather,  and  by  thee  usurp'd ; 
Other  donation  none  thou  canst  produce  : 
If  given,  by  whom  but  by  the  King  of  kings, 
God  over  all  supreme  ?    If  given  to  thee, 
By  thee  how  fairly  is  the  giver  now 
Repaid  ?    But  gratitude  in  thee  is  lost 
Long  since.    Wert  thou  so  void  of  fear  or  shame, 
As  offer  them  to  me,  the  Son  of  God, 
To  me  my  own,  on  such  abhorred  pact, 
That  I  fall  down  and  worship  thee  as  God  ?  192 

Get  thee  behind  me ;  plain  thou  now  appear'st 
That  evil  one,  Satan,  forever  damn'd." 

To  whom  the  fiend  with  fear  abash'd  replied : 
"  Be  not  so  sore  offended,  Son  of  God, 
Though  sons  of  God  both  angels  are  and  men, 
If  I  to  try  whether  in  higher  sort 
Than  these  thou  bear'st  that  title,  have  proposed 
What  both  from  men  and  angels  I  receive, 
Tetrarchs  of  fire,  air,  flood,  and  on  the  earth 
Nations  besides  from  all  the  quarter'd  winds, 
God  of  this  world  invoked  and  world  beneath ;  203 


.  IV.J  PARADISE    REGAINED.  345 

Who  then  thou  art,  whose  coming  is  foretold 

To  me  so  fatal,  me  it  most  concerns. 

The  trial  hath  endamaged  thee  no  way, 

Rather  more  honor  left  and  more  esteem ; 

Me  naught  advantaged,  missing  what  I  aim'd. 

Therefore  let  pass,  as  they  are  transitory, 

The  kingdoms  of  this  world ;  I  shall  no  more 

Advise  thee ;  gain  them  as  thou  canst,  or  not. 

And  thou  thyself  seem'st  otherwise  inclined 

Than  to  a  worldly  crown,  addicted  more  213 

To  contemplation  and  profound  dispute, 

As  by  that  early  action  may  be  judged, 

When  slipping  from  thy  mother's  eye  thou  went'st 

Alone  into  the  temple ;  there  wast  found 

Among  the  gravest  rabbis  disputant 

On  points  and  questions  fitting  Moses'  chair, 

Teaching,  not  taught ;  the  childhood  shows  the  man, 

As  morning  shows  the  day.     Be  famous  then 

By  wisdom ;  as  thy  empire  must  extend, 

So  let  extend  thy  mind  o'er  all  the  world 

In  knowledge,  all  things  in  it  comprehend.  224 

All  knowledge  is  not  couch'd  in  Moses'  law, 

The  Pentateuch,  or  what  the  prophets  wrote : 

The  Gentiles  also  know,  and  write,  and  teach 

To  admiration,  led  by  nature's  light ; 

And  with  the  Gentiles  much  thou  must  converse, 

Ruling  them  by  persuasion  as  thou  mean'st : 

Without  their  learning  how  wilt  thou  with  them, 

Or  they  with  thee,  hold  conversation  meet  ? 

How  wilt  thou  reason  with  them,  how  refute 

Their  idolisms,  traditions,  paradoxes  ? 

Error  by  his  own  arms  is  best  evinced.  235 

Look  once  more  ere  we  leave  this  specular  mount 

Westward,  much  nearer  by  southwest,  behold 

Where  on  the  j33gean  shore  a  city  stands 

Built  nobly,  pure  the  air,  and  light  the  soil — 

Athens,  the  eye  of  Greece,  mother  of  arts 

And  eloquence,  native  to  famous  wits 

Or  hospitable,  in  her  sweet  recess, 

City  or  suburban,  studious  walks  and  shades ; 

See  there  the  olive  grove  of  Academe, 

Plato's  retirement,  where  the  Attic  bird 

Trills  her  thick- warbled  notes  the  summer  long ;        246 


MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  IB.  iv. 

There  flowery  hill  Hymettus,  with  the  sound 

Of  bees'  industrious  murmur,  oft  invites 

To  studious  musing ;  there  Ilissus  rolls 

His  whispering  stream :  within  the  walls  then  view 

The  schools'  of  ancient  sages ;  his  who  bred 

Great  Alexander  to  subdue  the  world, 

Lyceum  there,  and  painted  Stoa  next : 

There  thou  shalt  hear  and  learn  the  secret  power 

Of  harmony  in  tones  and  numbers  hit 

By  voice  or  hand,  and  various-measured  verse,  256 

^Eolian  charms  and  Dorian  lyric  odes, 

And  his  who  gave  them  breath,  but  higher  sung, 

Blind  Melesigenes,  thence  Homer  call'd, 

Whose  poem  Phoebus  challenged  for  his  own. 

Thence  what  the  lofty  grave  tragedians  taught 

In  chorus  or  Iambic,  teachers  best 

Of  moral  prudence,  with  delight  received 

In  brief  sententious  precepts,  while  they  treat 

Of  fate,  and  chance,  and  change  in  human  life  ; 

High  actions  and  high  passions  best  describing. 

Thence  to  the  famous  orators  repair,  267 

Those  ancient,  whose  resistless  eloquence 

Wielded  at  will  that  fierce  democratie, 

Shook  the  arsenal,  and  fulmined  over  Greece 

To  Macedon  and  Artaxerxes'  throne. 

To  sage  philosophy  next  lend  thine  ear, 

From  Heaven  descended  to  the  low-roof 'd  house 

Of  Socrates ;  see  there  his  tenement, 

Whom  well  inspired  the  oracle  pronounced 

Wisest  of  men ;  from  whose  mouth  issued  forth 

Mellifluous  streams  that  water'd  all  the  schools 

Of  Academics  old  and  new,  with  those  278 

Surnamed  Peripatetics,  and  the  sect 

Epicurean,  and  the  Stoic  severe ; 

These  here  revolve,  or,  as  thou  lik'st,  at  home, 

Till  time  mature  thee  to  a  kingdom's  weight ; 

These  rules  will  render  thee  a  king  complete 

Within  thyself,  much  more  with  empire  join'd." 

To  whom  our  Saviour  sagely  thus  replied : 
"  Think  not  but  that  I  know  these  things,  or  think 
I  know  them  not ;  not  therefore  am  I  short 
Of  knowing  what  I  ought :  he  who  receives 
Light  from  above,  from  the  fountain  of  light,  289 


B.  IV.J  PARADISE    REGAINED.  347 

Xo  other  doctrine  needs,  though  granted  true ; 

But  these  are  false,  or  little  else  but  dreams, 

Conjectures,  fancies,  built  on  nothing  firm. 

The  first  and  wisest  of  them  all  profess'd 

To  know  this  only,  that  he  nothing  knew ; 

The  next  to  fabling  fell  and  smooth  conceits : 

A  third  sort  doubted  all  things,  though  plain  sense ; 

Others  in  virtue  placed  felicity, 

But  virtue  join'd  with  riches  and  long  life ; 

In  corporal  pleasure  he,  and  careless  ease;  299 

The  Stoic  last,  in  philosophic  pride, 

By  him  call'd  virtue ;  and  his  virtuous  man, 

Wise,  perfect  in  himself,  and  all  possessing, 

Equals  to  God,  oft  shames  not  to  prefer, 

As  fearing  God  nor  man,  contemning  all, 

Wealth,  pleasure,  pain,  or  torment,  death  and  life, 

Which  when  he  lists  he  leaves,  or  boasts  he  can, 

For  all  his  tedious  talk  is  but  vain  boast, 

Or  subtle  shifts  conviction  to  evade. 

Alas !  what  can  they  teach,  and  not  mislead, 

Ignorant  of  themselves,  of  God  much  more,  310 

And  how  the  world  began,  and  how  man  fell 

Degraded  by  himself,  on  grace  depending  ? 

Much  of  the  soul  they  talk,  but  all  awry, 

And  in  themselves  seek  virtue,  and  to  themselves 

All  glory  arrogate,  to  God  give  none, 

Bather  accuse  him  under  usual  names, 

Fortune  and  Fate,  as  one  regardless  quite 

Of  mortal  things.     Who  therefore  seeks  in  these 

True  wisdom,  finds  her  not,  or  by  delusion, 

Far  worse,  her  false  resemblance  only  meets, 

An  empty  cloud.     However,  many  books, 

Wise  men  have  said,  are  wearisome :  who  reads 

Incessantly,  and  to  his  reading  brings  not 

A  spirit  and  judgment  equal  or  superior, 

(And  what  he  brings,  what  needs  he  elsewhere  seek  ?) 

Uncertain  and  unsettled  still  remains, 

Deep  versed  in  books  and  shallow  in  himself, 

Crude  or  intoxicate,  collecting  toys, 

And  trifles  for  choice  matters,  worth  a  sponge ; 

As  children  gathering  pebbles  on  the  shore. 

Or  if  I  would  delight  my  private  hours 

With  music  or  with  poein,  where  so  soon 


348  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  iy. 

As  in  our  native  language  can  I  find 

That  solace  ?    All  our  law  and  story  strew'd 

With  hymns,  our  psalms  with  artful  terms  inscribed, 

Our  Hebrew  songs  and  harps  in  Babylon, 

That  pleased  so  well  our  victors'  ear,  declare 

That  rather  Greece  from  us  these  arts  derived ; 

111  imitated,  while  they  loudest  sing 

The  vices  of  their  deities,  and  their  own 

In  fable,  hymn,  or  song,  so  personating 

Their  gods  ridiculous,  and  themselves  past  shame.      342 

Remove  their  swelling  epithets,  thick  laid 

As  varnish  on  a  harlot's  cheek,  the  rest, 

Thin  sown  with  aught  of  profit  or  delight, 

"Will  far  be  found  unworthy  to  compare 

With  Sion's  songs,  to  all  true  tastes  excelling, 

Where  God  is  praised  aright,  and  godlike  men, 

The  Holiest  of  Holies,  and  his  saints  ; 

Such  are  from  God  inspired,  not  such  from  thee, 

Unless  where  moral  virtue  is  express'd 

By  light  of  nature  not  in  all  quite  lost. 

Their  orators  thou  then  extoll'st,  as  those  353 

The  top  of  eloquence,  statists  indeed, 

And  lovers  of  their  country,  as  may  seem ; 

But  herein  to  our  prophets  far  beneath, 

As  men  divinely  taught,  and  better  teaching 

The  solid  rules  of  civil  government, 

In  their  majestic  unaffected  style, 

Than  all  the  oratory  of  Greece  and  Rome. 

In  them  is  plainest  taught,  and  easiest  learnt, 

What  makes  a  nation  happy,  and  keeps  it  so, 

What  ruins  kingdoms,  and  lays  cities  flat ; 

These  only  with  our  law  best  form  a  king."  364 

So  spake  the  Son  of  God ;  but  Satan  now 
Quite  at  a  loss,  for  all  his  darts  were  spent, 
Thus  to  our  Saviour  with  stern  brow  replied : 

"  Since  neither  wealth  nor  honor,  arms  nor  arts, 
Kingdom  nor  empire,  pleases  thee,  nor  aught 
Py  me  proposed  in  life  contemplative, 
Or  active,  tended  on  by  glory  or  fame, 
What  dost  thou  in  this  world  ?    The  wilderness 
For  thee  is  fittest  place ;  I  found  thee  there, 
And  thither  will  return  thee  :  yet  remember 
What  I  foretell  thee ;  soon  thou  shalt  have  c/iuse       375 


B.  IV.]  PARADISE    KEGAIXEI).  349 

To  wish  thou  never  hadst  rejected  thus 

Nicely  or  cautiously  my  offer'd  aid, 

"Which  would  have  set  thee  in  short  time  with  ease 

On  David's  throne,  or  throne  of  all  the  world, 

Now  at  full  age,  fullness  of  time,  thy  season, 

"When  prophecies  of  thee  are  best  fulfilled. 

Now  contrary,  if  I  read  aught  in  Heaven, 

Or  Heaven  write  aught  of  fate,  by  what  the  stars 

Voluminous,  or  single  characters, 

In  their  conjunction  met,  give  me  to  spell,  385 

Sorrows  and  labors,  opposition,  hate, 

Attends  thee,  scorns,  reproaches,  injuries, 

Violence  and  stripes,  and  lastly  cruel  death ; 

A  kingdom  they  portend  thee,  but  what  kingdom, 

Real  or  allegoric,  I  discern  not, 

Nor  when — eternal  sure,  as  without  end, 

"Without  beginning ;  for  no  date  prefix'd 

Directs  me  in  the  starry  rubric  set." 

So  saying  he  took,  (for  he  still  knew  his  power 
Not  yet  expired,)  and  to  the  wilderness 
Brought  back  the  Son  of  God,  and  left  him  there,       390 
Feigning  to  disappear.     Darkness  now  rose, 
As  daylight  sunk,  and  brought  in  lowering  night, 
Her  shadowy  offspring,  unsubstantial  both, 
Privation  mere  of  light  and  absent  day. 
Our  Saviour,  meek  and  with  untroubled  mind 
After  his  airy  jaunt,  though  hurried  sore, 
Hungry  and  cold  betook  him  to  his  rest, 
"Wherever,  under  some  concourse  of  shades, 
Whose  branching  arms  thick  intertwined  might  shield 
From  dews  and  damps  of  night  his  sheltered  head ; 
But  shelter'd  slept  in  vain,  for  at  his  head  40? 

The  tempter  watch'd,  and  soon  with  ugly  dreams 
Disturbed  his  sleep ;  and  either  tropic  now 
'Gan  thunder,  and  both  ends  of  Heaven,  the  clouds 
From  many  a  horrid  rift  abortive  pour'd 
Fierce  rain  with  lightning  rnix'd,  water  with  fire 
In  ruin  reconciled :  nor  slept  the  winds 
"Within  their  stony  caves,  but  rush'd  abroad 
From  the  four  hinges  of  the  world,  and  fell 
On  the  vex'd  wilderness,  whose  tallest  pines, 
Though  rooted  deep  as  high,  and  sturdiest  oaks 
Bow'd  their  stiff  necks,  loaden  with  stormy  blasts,      4-18 

30 


350  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [o.  iv 

Or  torn  up  sheer:  ill  wast  thou  shrouded  then, 

O  patient  Son  of  God,  yet  only  stood'st 

Unshaken ;  nor  yet  stay'd  the  terror  there, 

Infernal  ghosts,  and  hellish  furies,  round 

Environed  thee,  some  howl'd,  some  yelPd,  some  shriek'd, 

Some  hent  at  thee  their  fiery  darts,  while  thou 

Sat'st  unappalFd  in  calm  and  sinless  peace. 

Thus  pass'd  the  night  so  foul,  till  morning  fair 

Came  forth  with  pilgrim  steps  in  amice  gray, 

Who  with  her  radiant  finger  still'd  the  roar  428 

Of  thunder,  chased  the  clouds,  and  laid  the  winds, 

And  grisly  spectres,  which  the  fiend  had  raised 

To  tempt  the  Son  of  God  with  terrors  dire. 

And  now  the  sun  with  more  effectual  beams 

Had  cheer'd  the  face  of  earth,  and  dried  the  wet 

From  drooping  plant,  or  dropping  tree ;  the  birds, 

Who  all  things  now  behold  more  fresh  and  green, 

After  a  night  of  storm  so  ruinous, 

Cleared  up  their  choicest  notes  in  bush  and  spray 

To  gratulate  the  sweet  return  of  morn ; 

Nor  yet  amidst  this  joy  and  brightest  morn  439 

Was  absent,  after  all  his  mischief  done, 

The  prince  of  darkness,  glad  would  also  seem 

Of  this  fair  change,  and  to  our  Saviour  came, 

Yet  with  no  new  device,  they  all  were  spent, 

Rather  by  this  his  last  affront  resolved, 

Desperate  of  better  course,  to  vent  his  rage, 

And  mad  despite  to  be  so  oft  repell'd. 

Him  walking  on  a  sunny  hill  he  found, 

Back'd  on  the  north  and  west  by  a  thick  wood ; 

Out  of  the  wood  he  starts  in  wonted  shape, 

And  in  a  careless  mood  thus  to  him  said :  450 

"  Fair  morning  yet  betides  thee,  Son  of  God, 
After  a  dismal  night;  I  heard  the  wrack 
As  earth  and  sky  would  mingle ;  but  myself 
Was  distant;  and  these  flaws,  though  mortals  fear  them 
As  dangerous  to  the  pillar'd  frame  of  Heaven, 
Or  to  the  earth's  dark  basis  underneath, 
Are  to  the  main  as  inconsiderable, 
And  harmless,  if  not  wholesome,  as  a  sneeze 
To  man's  less  universe,  and  soon  are  gone; 
Yet  as  being  ofttimes  noxious  where  they  light    * 
On  man,  beast,  plant,  wasteful  and  turbulent,  461 


B.  IV.]  PARADISE    REGAINED.  351 

Like  turbulences  in  the  affairs  of  men, 

Over  whose  heads  they  roar,  and  seem  to  point, 

They  oft  fore-signify  and  threaten  ill : 

This  tempest  at  this  desert  most  was  bent ; 

Of  men  at  thee,  for  only  thou  here  dwell'st. 

Did  I  not  tell  thee,  if  thou  didst  reject 

The  perfect  season  offer'd  with  my  aid 

To  win  thy  destined  seat,  but  wilt  prolong 

All  to  the  push  of  fate,  pursue  thy  way 

Of  gaining  David's  throne  no  man  knows  when,         471 

For  both  the  when  and  how  is  nowhere  told, 

Thou  shalt  be  what  thou  art  ordain'd,  no  doubt , 

For  angels  have  proclaimed  it,  but  concealing 

The  time  and  means :  each  act  is  rightliest  done, 

Not  when  it  must,  but  when  it  may  be  best. 

If  thou  observe  not  this,  be  sure  to  find, 

What  I  foretold  thee,  many  a  hard  assay 

Of  dangers,  and  adversities,  and  pains, 

Ere  thou  of  Israel's  sceptre  get  fast  hold ; 

Whereof  this  ominous  night  that  closed  thee  round, 

So  many  terrors,  voices,  prodigies  iS2 

May  warn  thee,  as  a  sure  foregoing  sign." 

So  talked  he,  while  the  Son  of  God  went  on 
And  stay'd  not,  but  in  brief  him  answer'd  thus :  • 

"  Me  worse  than  wet  thou  find'st  not ;  other  harm 
Those  terrors  which  thou  speak'st  of  did  me  none ; 
I  never  fearM  they  could,  though  noising  loud 
And  threatening  nigh ;  what  they  can  do  as  signs 
Betokening,  or  ill  boding,  I  contemn 
As  false  portents,  not  sent  from  God,  but  thee ; 
Who  knowing  I  shall  reign  past  thy  preventing, 
Obtrud'st  thy  offer'd  aid,  that  I  accepting,  493 

At  least  might  seem  to  hold  all  power  of  thee, 
Ambitious  spirit,  and  wouldst  be  thought  my  God, 
And  storm'st  refused,  thinking  to  terrify 
Me  to  thy  will.     Desist,  thou  art  discern'd 
And  toil'st  in  vain,  nor  me  in  vain  molest." 

To  whom  the  fiend,  now  swollen  with  rage,  replied : 
"  Then  hear,  O  Son  of  David,  virgin-born ; 
For  Son  of  God  to  me  is  yet  in  doubt : 
Of  the  Messiah  I  have  heard  foretold 
By  all  the  prophets ;  of  thy  birth  at  length 
Announced  by  Gabriel  with  the  first  I  knew,  504 


:  .'  J  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  iv, 

And  of  the  angelic  song  in  Bethlehem  field, 

On  thy  birth-night,  that  sung  thee  Saviour  born. 

From  that  time  seldom  have  I  ceased  to  eye 

Thy  infancy,  thy  childhood,  and  thy  youth, 

Thy  manhood  last,  though  yet  in  private  bred ; 

Till  at  the  ford  of  Jordan,  whither  all 

Flock?d  to  the  Baptist,  I  among  the  rest, 

Though  not  to  be  baptized,  by  voice  from  Heaven 

Heard  thee  pronounced  the  Son  of  God  beloved. 

Thenceforth  I  thought  thee  worth  my  nearer  view     514 

And  narrower  scrutiny,  that  I  might  learn 

In  what  degree  or  meaning  thou  art  call'd 

The  Son  of  God,  which  bears  no  single  sense; 

The  son  of  God  I  also  am,  or  was, 

And  if  I  was,  I  am ;  relation  stands ; 

All  men  are  sons  of  God ;  yet  thee  I  thought 

In  some  respect  far  higher  so  declared. 

Therefore  I  watch'd  thy  footsteps  from  that  hour, 

And  follow'd  thee  still  on  to  this  waste  wild ; 

Where  by  all  best  conjectures  I  collect 

Thou  art  to  be  my  fatal  enemy.  525 

Good  reason  then,  if  I  beforehand  seek 

To  understand  my  adversary,  who 

And  what  he  is  ;  his  wisdom,  power,  intent ; 

By  parle  or  composition,  truce  or  league, 

To  win  him,  or  win  from  him  what  I  can. 

And  opportunity  I  here  have  had 

To  try  thee,  sift  thee,  and  confess  have  found  thee 

Proof  against  all  temptation,  as  a  rock 

Of  adamant,  and  as  a  centre,  firm, 

To  the  utmost  of  mere  man  both  wise  and  good, 

Not  more ;  for  honors,  riches,  kingdoms,  glory,          536 

Have  been  before  contemn'd,  and  may  again : 

Therefore  to  know  what  more  thou  art  than  man, 

"Worth  naming  Son  of  God  by  voice  from  Heaven, 

Another  method  I  must  now  begin." 

So  saying,  he  caught  him  up,  and,  without  wing 
Of  hippogrif,  bore  through  the  air  sublime 
Over  the  wilderness  and  o'er  the  plain ; 
Till  underneath  them  fair  Jerusalem, 
The  holy  city,  lifted  high  her  towers, 
And  higher  yet  the  glorious  temple  rear'd 
Her  pile,  far  off  appearing  like  a  mount  547 


B.  IV.l  PARADISE    REGAINED.  353 

Of  alabaster,  topt  with  golden  spires : 
There  on  the  highest  pinnacle  he  set 
The  Son  of  God,  and  added  thus  in  scorn : 

"  There  stand,  if  thou  wilt  stand ;  to  stand  upright 
Will  ask  thee  skill.   I  to  thy  Father's  house 
Have  brought  thee,  and  highest  placed,  highest  is  best ; 
Now  show  thy  progeny :  if  not  to  stand, 
Cast  thyself  down ;  safely,  if  Son  of  God ; 
For  it  is  written,  4  He  will  give  command 
Concerning  thee  to  his  angels,  in  tlieir  hands  557 

They  shall  uplift  thee,  lest  at  any  time 
Thou  chance  to  dash  thy  foot  against  a  stone.' " 

To  whom  thus  Jesus :  "  Also  it  is  written, 
Tempt  not  the  Lord  thy  God :"  he  said,  and  stood ; 
But  Satan,  smitten  with  amazement,  fell. 
As  when  earth's  son,  Antaeus,  (to  compare 
Small  things  with  greatest,)  in  Irassa  strove 
With  Jove's  Abides,  and  oft  foil'd  still  rose, 
Receiving  from  his  mother  earth  new  strength, 
Fresh  from  his  fall,  and  fiercer  grapple  join'd, 
Throttled  at  length  in  the  air,  expired  and  fell ;          568 
So  after  many  a  foil  the  tempter  proud, 
Renewing  fresh  assaults,  amidst  his  pride 
Fell  whence  he  stood  to  see  his  victor  fall. 
And  as  that  Theban  monster  that  proposed 
Her  riddle,  and  him  who  solved  it  not  devour'd, 
That  once  found  out  and  solved,  for  grief  and  spite 
Cast  herself  headlong  from  the  Ismenian  steep ; 
So  struck  with  dread  and  anguish  fell  the  fiend, 
And  to  his  crew,  that  sat  consulting,  brought 
Joyless  triumphals  of  his  hoped  success, 
Ruin,  and  desperation,  and  dismay,  579 

Who  durst  so  proudly  tempt  the  Son  of  God. 
So  Satan  fell ;  and  straight  a  fiery  globe 
Of  angels  on  full  sail  of  wing  flew  nigh, 
Who  on  their  plumy  vans  received  him  soft 
From  his  uneasy  station,  and  up  bore 
As  on  a  floating  couch  through  the  blithe  air, 
Then  in  a  flowery  valley  set  him  down 
On  a  green  bank,  and  set  before  him  spread 
A  table  of  celestial  food,  divine, 
Ambrosial  fruits,  fetch'd  from  the  tree  of  life. 
And  from  the  fount  of  life  ambrosial  drink.  590 


354  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS.  [B.  iv 

That  soon  refreshed  liiin  wearied,  and  repair'd 
What  hunger,  if  aught  hunger  had  impair'd, 
Or  thirst ;  and  as  he  fed,  angelic  quires 
Sung  heavenly  anthems  of  his  victory 
Over  temptation,  and  the  tempter  proud. 

u  True  image  of  the  Father,  whether  throned 
In  the  bosom  of  bliss,  and  light  of  light 
Conceiving,  or  remote  from  Heaven,  enshrined 
In  fleshly  tabernacle,  and  human  form, 
Wandering  the  wilderness,  whatever  place,  <»(JG 

Habit,  or  state,  or  motion,  still  expressing 
The  Son  of  God,  with  godlike  force  endued 
Against  the  attempter  of  thy  Father's  throne, 
And  thief  of  Paradise ;  him  long  of  old 
Thou  didst  debel,  and  down  from  Heaven  cast 
With  all  his  army ;  now  thou  hast  avenged 
Supplanted  Adam,  and  by  vanquishing 
Temptation,  hast  regained  lost  Paradise, 
And  frustrated  the  conquest  fraudulent : 
He  never  more  henceforth  will  dare  set  foot 
In  Paradise  to  tempt;  his  snares  are  broke :  611 

For  though  that  seat  of  earthly  bliss  be  fail'd, 
A  fairer  Paradise  is  founded  now 
For  Adam  and  his  chosen  sons,  whom  thou 
A  Saviour  art  come  down  to  reinstall 
Where  they  shall  dwell  secure,  when  time  shall  be, 
Of  tempter  and  temptation  without  fear. 
But  thou,  infernal  serpent,  shalt  not  long 
Rule  in  the  clouds ;  like  an  autumnal  star 
Or  lightning  thou  shalt  fall  from  Heaven,  trod  down 
Under  his  feet :  for  proof,  ere  this  thou  feel'st 
Thy  wound,  yet  not  thy  last  and  deadliest  wound,      622 
By  this  repulse  received,  and  hold'st  in  Hell 
No  triumph ;  in  all  her  gates  Abaddon  rues 
Thy  bold  attempt ;  hereafter  learn  with  awe 
To  dread  the  Son  of  God :  he  all  unarm'd 
Shall  chase  thee  with  the  terror  of  his  voice 
From  thy  demoniac  holds,  possession  foul, 
Thee  and  thy  legions ;  yelling  they  shaL  fly, 
And  beg  to  hide  them  in  a  herd  of  swine, 
Lest  he  command  them  down  into  the  deep, 
Bound,  and  to  torment  sent  before  their  time. 
Hail,  Son  of  the  Most  High,  heir  of  both  worlds,         633 


IV.]  PARADISE    REGAINED.  355 

Queller  of  Satan  !  on  thy  glorious  work 
"Now  enter,  and  begin  to  save  mankind." 

Thus  they  the  Son  of  God,  our  Saviour  meek, 
Sung  victor,  and  from  heavenly  feast  refreshed 
Brought  on  his  way  with  joy ;  he  unobserved 
Home  to  his  mother's  house  private  returned. 


SAMSON    AGONISTES 

A    DRAMATIC    POEM. 


irpd%ed>S  oirovSaias.  —  /c.r.  A. 

TRAGCEDIA  EST  IMITATIO  ACTIONIS  SERI^I,  ETC.  PER  MISERICORDIAM 
BT  METUM   PERFICIEX8  TALIUM   AFFECTUUM   LUSTRATIONEM. 

Ariatot.  Poein  cav.  6. 


OF  THAT  SORT  OF  DRAMATIC  POEM  WHICH 
IS  CALLED  TRAGEDY. 


TRAGEDY,  as  it  was  anciently  composed,  hath  been  ever  held 
the  gravest,  moralest,  and  mo'st  profitable  of  all  other  poems  : 
therefore  said  by  Aristotle  to  be  of  power,  by  raising  pity  and 
fear,  or  terror,  to  purge  the  mind  of  those  and  such  like  pas- 
sions, that  is,  to  temper  and  reduce  them  to  just  measure  with 
a  kind  of  delight,  stirred  up  by  reading  or  seeing  those  passions 
well  imitated.  Nor  is  nature  wanting  in  her  own  effects  to 
make  good  his  assertion  :  for  so  in  physic,  things  of  melan- 
cholic hue  and  quality  are  used  against  melancholy,  sour 
against  sour,  salt  to  remove  salt-humors.  Hence  philosophers, 
and  other  gravest  writers,  as  Cicero,  Plutarch,  and  others,  fre- 
quently cite  out  of  tragic  poets,  both  to  adorn  and  illustrate 
their  discourse.  The  apostle  Paul  himself  thought  it  not  un- 
worthy to  insert  a  verse  of  Euripides  into  the  text  of  Holy 
Scripture  (1  Cor.  xv.  33)  ;  and  Parasus,  commenting  on  the 
Revelation,  divides  the  whole  book  as  a  tragedy,  into  acts  dis- 
tinguished each  by  a  chorus  of  heavenly  harpings  and  song  be- 
tween. Heretofore,  men  in  highest  dignity  have  labored  not  a 
little  to  be  thought  able  to  compose  a  tragedy.  Of  that  honor 
Dionysius  the  elder  was  no  less  ambitious,  than  before  of  his 
attaining  to  the  tyranny.  Augustus  Caesar  also  had  begun  his 
Ajax ;  but  unable  to  please  his  own  judgment  with  what  he 
had  begun,  left  it  unfinishd.  Seneca  the  philosopher  is  by  some 
thought  the  author  of  those  tragedies  (at  least  the  best  of  them) 
that  go  under  that  name.  Gregory  Nazianzen,  a  father  of  the 
Church,  thought  it  not  unbeseeming  the  sanctity  of  his  person 
to  write  a  tragedy,  which  is  entitled  Christ  Suffering.  This  is 
mentioned  to  vindicate  tragedy  from  the  small  esteem,  or  rather 
infamy,  which  in  the  account  of  many  it  undergoes  at  this  day 
with  other  common  interludes  ;  happening  through  the  poet's 
error  of  intermixing  comic  stuff  with  tragic  sadness  and  grav- 
ity ;  or  introducing  trivial  and  vulgar  persons,  which  by  all 
judicious  hath  been  counted  absurd  ;  and  brought  in  without 
discretion,  corruptly  to  gratify  the  people.  And  though  an- 
cient tragedy  use  no  prologue,  yet  using  sometimes,  in  case  ol 


360  MILTOK'S    POETICAL   WORKS; 


self-defence  or  explanation,  that  which  Martial  calls  an  epistle  5 
in  behalf  of  this  tragedy  coming  forth  after  the  ancient  man- 
ner, much  different  from  what  among  us  passes  for  best,  thus 
much  beforehand  may  be  epistled  ;  that  chorus  is  here  intro- 
duced after  the  Greek  manner,  not  ancient  only  but  modern, 
and  still  in  use  among  the  Italians.  In  the  modelling  there- 
fore of  this  poem,  with  good  reason,  the  ancients  and  Italians 
are  rather  followed,  as  of  much  more  authority  and  fame.  The 
measure  of  verse  used  in  the  chorus  is  of  all  sorts,  called  by  the 
Greeks  monostrophic,  or  rather  apolelymenon,  without  regard 
had  to  strophe,  antistrophe,  or  epode,  which  were  a  kind  of 
stanzas  framed  only  for  the  music,  then  used  with  the  chorus 
that  sung ;  not  essential  to  the  poem,  and  therefore  not  mate- 
rial ;  or  being  divided  into  stanzaa  or  pauses,  they  may  be  called 
alloeostropha.  Division  into  act  and  scene  referring  chiefly  to 
the  stage  (to  which  this  work  never  was  intended),  is  here 
omitted. 

It  suffices  if  the  whole  drama  be  found  not  produced  beyond 
the  fifth  act.  Of  the  style  and  uniformity,  and  that  commonly 
called  the  plot,  whether  intricate  or  explicit,  which  is  nothing 
indeed  but  such  economy  or  disposition  of  the  fable  as  may 
stand  best  with  verisimilitude  and  decorum ;  they  only  will 
•best  judge  who  are  not  unacquainted  with  JEschylus,  Sophocles, 
and  Euripides,  the  three  tragic  poets  unequalled  yet  by  any, 
and  the  best  rule  to  all  who  endeavor  to  write  tragedy.  The 
circumscription  of  time,  wherein  the  whole  drama  begins  and 
ends,  is,  according  to  ancient  rule,  and  best  example,  within  the 
space  of  twenty-four  hours. 


TtlE    PERSONS. 

SAMSON. 

HAKOAH,    THE   FATHEE   OF   SAMSON. 

DALILA,    HIS   WIFE. 

HARAPHA   OF  GATH. 

PUBLIC   OFFICER. 

MESSENGER. 

CHORUS  OF  DANITES. 

THE  SCENE  BEFORE  THE  PRISON  IN  GAZA. 


SAMSON   AGONISTES. 


THE    ARGUMENT. 

Samson  made  captive,  blind,  and  now  in  the  prison  at  Gaza,  there  to  labor  as  in  a 
common  workhouse,  on  a  festival  day,  in  the  general  cessation  from  labor,  comes 
forth  into  the  open  air,  to  a  place  nigh,  somewhat  retired,  there  to  sit  a  while  and 
bemoan  his  condition.  Where  he  happens  at  length  to  be  visited  by  certain  friends 
and  equals  of  his  tribe,  which  make  the  Chorus,  who  seek  to  comfort  him  what 
they  can ;  then  by  his  old  father  Manoah,  who  endeavors  the  like,  and  withal  tells 
him  his  purpose  to  procure  his  liberty  by  ransom  ;  lastly,  that  this  feast  was  pro- 
claimed by  the  Philistines  as  a  day  of  thanksgiving  for  their  deliverance  from  the 
hands  of  Samson,  which  yet  more  troubles  him.  Manoah  then  departs  to  prosecute 
his  endeavor  with  the  Philistine  lords  for  Samson's  redemption  ;  who  in  the  mean 
while  is  visited  by  other  persons ;  and,  lastly,  by  a  public  officer,  to  require  his 
coming  to  the  feast  before  the  lords  and  people,  to  play  or  show  his  strength  in 
their  presence  ;  he  at  first  refuses,  dismissing  the  public  officer  with  absolute  de- 
nial to  come  ;  at  length,  persuaded  inwardly  that  this  was  from  God,  he  yields  to 
go  along  with  him,  who  came  now  the  second  time  with  great  threatenings  to  fetch 
him :  the  Chorus  yet  remaining  on  the  place,  Manoah  returns  full  of  joyful  hope,  to 
procure  ere  long  his  son's  deliverance :  in  the  midst  of  which  discourse  an  He- 
brew comes  In  haste,  confusedly  at  first,  and  afterwards  more  distinctly  relating 
the  catastrophe,  what  Samson  had  done  to  the  Philistines,  and  by  accident  to  him- 
self; wherewith  the  tragedy  ends. 

SAMSON. 

A  LITTLE  onward  lend  thy  guiding  hand 
To  these  dark  steps,  a  little  further  on ; 
For  yonder  bank  hath  choice  of  sun  or  shade : 
There  I  am  wont  to  sit,  when  any  chance 
Relieves  me  from  my  task  of  servile  toil, 
Daily  in  the  common  prison  else  enjoin'd  me, 
Where  I  a  prisoner,  chain'd,  scarce  freely  draw 
The  air  imprisoned  also,  close  and  damp, 
Unwholesome  draught :  but  here  I  feel  amends, 
The  breath  of  Heaven  fresh  blowing,  pure  and  sweet, 
"With  day-spring  born  :  here  leave  me  to  respire. 
This  day  a  solemn  feast  the  people  hold 
To  Dagon,  their  sea-idol,  and  forbid 
Laborious  works :  unwillingly  this  rest 
Their  superstition  yields  me ;  hence  with  leave 
31 


362  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Retiring  from  the  popular  noise,  I  seek 

This  unfrequented  place  to  find  some  ease, — 

Ease  to  the  body  some,  none  to  the  mind 

From  restless  thoughts,  that,  like  a  deadly  swarm 

Of  hornejts  arm'd,  no  sooner  found  alone, 

But  rush  upon  me  thronging,  and  present 

Times  past,  what  once  I  was,  and  what  am  now. 

O  wherefore  was  my  birth  from  Heaven  foretold 

Twice  by  an  angel,  who  at  last  in  sight 

Of  both  my  parents  all  in  flames  ascended 

From  off  the  altar,  where  an  offering  burn'd, 

As  in  a  fiery  column,  charioting 

His  godlike  presence,  and  from  some  great  act 

Or  benefit  reveal'd  to  Abraham's  race  ? 

Why  was  my  breeding  order'd  and  prescribed 

As  of  a  person  separate  to  God, 

Designed  for  great  exploits ;  if  I  must  die 

Betray'd,  captived,  and  both  my  eyes  put  out, 

Made  of  my  enemies  the  scorn  and  gaze ; 

To  grind  in  brazen  fetters  under  task 

With  this  Heaven-gifted  strength  ?    O  glorious  strength, 

Put  to  the  labor  of  a  beast,  debased 

Lower  than  bondslave !     Promise  was  that  I 

Should  Israel  from  Philistian  yoke  deliver ; 

Ask  for  this  great  deliverer  now,  and  find  him 

Eyeless  in  Gaza,  at  the  mill  with  slaves, 

Himself  in  bonds  under  Philistian  yoke : 

Yet  stay,  let  me  not  rashly  call  in  doubt 

Divine  prediction ;  what  if  all  foretold 

Had  been  fulfill'd  but  through  mine  own  default, 

Whom  have  I  to  complain  of  but  myself? 

Who  this  high  gift  of  strength  committed  to  me, 

In  what  part  lodged,  how  easily  bereft  me. 

Under  the  seal  of  silence  could  not  keep, 

But  weakly  to  a  woman  must  reveal  it, 

Overcome  with  importunity  and  tears. 

O  impotence  of  mind,  in  body  strong ! 

But  what  is  strength  without  a  double  share 

Of  wisdom,  vast,  unwieldy,  burdensome, 

Proudly  secure,  yet  liable  to  fall 

By  weakest  subtleties,  not  made  to  rule, 

But  to  subserve  where  wisdom  bears  command ! 

God.  when  he  gave  me  strength,  to  show  withal 


SAMSON    AGONISTES.  363 

How  slight  the  gift  was,  hung  it  in  my  hair. 

But  peace !  I  must  not  quarrel  with  the  will 

Of  highest  dispensation,  which  herein 

Haply  had  ends  above  my  reach  to  know : 

Suffices  that  to  me  strength  is  my  bane, 

And  proves  the  source  of  all  my  miseries ; 

So  many  and  so  huge,  that  each  apart 

Would  ask  a  life  to  wail :  but  chief  of  all, 

O  loss  of  sight,  of  thee  I  most  complain ! 

Blind  among  enemies,  O  worse  than  chains, 

Dungeon,  or  beggary,  or  decrepit  age ! 

Light,  the  prime  work  of  God,  to  me  is  extinct, 

And  all  her  various  objects  of  delight 

Annull'd,  which  might  in  part  my  grief  have  eased. 

Inferior  to  the  vilest  now  become 

Of  man  or  worm ;  the  vilest  here  excel  me : 

They  creep,  yet  see ;  I  dark  in  light  exposed 

To  daily  fraud,  contempt,  abuse,  and  wrong, 

Within-doors,  or  without,  still  as  a  fool, 

In  power  of  others,  never  in  my  own ; 

Scarce  half  I  seem  to  live,  dead  more  than  half. 

O  dark,  dark,  dark,  amid  the  blaze  of  noon, 

Irrecoverably  dark,  total  eclipse, 

Without  all  hope  of  day ! 

O  first  created  beam,  and  thou  great  Word, 

"  Let  there  be  light!"  and  light  was  over  all ; 

Why  am  I  thus  bereaved  thy  prime  decree  ? 

The  sun  to  me  is  dark 

And  silent  as  the  moon, 

When  she  deserts  the  night, 

Hid  in  her  vacant  interlunar  cave. 

Since  light  so  necessary  is  to  life, 

And  almost  life  itself,  if  it  be  true 

That  light  is  in  the  soul, 

She  all  in  every  part ;  why  was  the  sight 

To  such  a  tender  ball  as  the  eye  confined, 

So  obvious  and  so  easy  to  be  quench' d  ? 

And  not  as  feeling  through  all  parts  diffused, 

That  she  might  look  at  will  through  every  pore  ? 

Then  had  I  not  been  thus  exiled  from  light, 

As  in  the  land  of  darkness,  yet  in  light, 

To  live  a  life  half  dead,  a  living  death, 

And  buried ;  but  O  yet  more  miserable ! 


364  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Myself  my  sepulchre,  a  moving  grave, 

Buried,  yet  not  exempt 

By  privilege  of  death  and  burial 

From  worst  of  other  evils,  pains,  and  wrongs, 

But  made  hereby  obnoxious  more 

To  all  the  miseries  of  life, 

Life  in  captivity 

Among  inhuman  foes. 

But  who  are  these?  for  with  joint  pace  I  hear 

The  tread  of  many  feet  steering  this  way ; 

Perhaps  my  enemies  who  come  to  stare 

At  my  affliction,  and  perhaps  to  insult, 

Their  daily  practice  to  afflict  me  more. 

CHORUS. 

This,  this  is  he ;  softly  a  while, 
Let  us  not  break  in  upon  him ; 
O  change  beyond  report,  thought,  or  belief ! 
See  how  he  lies  at  random,  carelessly  diffused, 
With  languished  head  unpropt, 
As  one  past  hope,  abandon'd, 
And  by  himself  given  over ; 
In  slavish  habit,  ill-fitted  weeds 
O'er-worn  and  soil'd ; 

Or  do  my  eyes  misrepresent  ?    Can  this  be  he. 
That  heroic,  that  renown'd, 

Irresistible  Samson  ?  whom  unarmed  [stand ; 

"No  strength  of  man,  or  fiercest  wild  beast  could  with- 
Who  tore  the  lion,  as  the  lion  tears  the  kid ; 
Ran  on  embattled  armies  clad  in  iron, 
And  weaponless  himself; 
Made  arms  ridiculous,  useless  the  forgery 
Of  brazen  shield  and  spear,  the  hammer'd  cuirass, 
Chalybean  tempered  steel,  and  frock  of  mail, 
Adamantean  proof ; 
But  safest  he  who  stood  aloof, 
When  insupportably  his  foot  advanced, 
In  scorn  of  their  proud  arms  and  warlike  tools, 
Spurn'd  them  to  death  by  troops.     The  bold  Ascalonite 
Fled  from  his  lion  ramp,  old  warriors  turn'd 
Their  plated  backs  under  his  heel ; 
Or  grovelling  soil'd  their  crested  helmets  in  the  dust. 
Then  with  what  trivial  weapon  came  to  hand, 


SAMSON    AGONISTES.  365 

The  jaw  of  a  dead  ass,  his  sword  of  bone, 

A  thousand  foreskins  fell,  the  flower  of  Palestine, 

In  Ramath-lechi  famous  to  this  day. 

Then  by  main  force  pull'd  up,  and  on  his  shoulders  bore 

The  gates  of  Azza,  post,  and  massy  bar, 

Up  to  the  hill  by  Hebron,  seat  of  giants  old, 

No  journey  of  a  sabbath-day,  and  loaded  so ; 

Like  whom  the  Gentiles  feign  to  bear  up  Heaven. 

Which  shall  I  first  bewail, 

Thy  bondage  or  lost  sight, 

Prison  within  prison 

Inseparably  dark? 

Thou  art  become  (0  worst  imprisonment !) 

The  dungeon  of  thyself;  thy  soul 

(Which  men  enjoying  sight  oft  without  cause  complain) 

Imprison'd  now  indeed, 

In  real  darkness  of  the  body  dwells, 

Shut  up  from  outward  light 

To  incorporate  with  gloomy  night ; 

For  inward  light,  alas ! 

Puts  forth  no  visual  beam. 

O  mirror  of  our  fickle  state, 

Since  man  on  earth  unparallel'd ! 

The  rarer  thy  example  stands, 

By  how  much  from  the  top  of  wondrous  glory, 

Strongest  of  mortal  men, 

To  lowest  pitch  of  abject  fortune  thou  art  fallen 

For  him  I  reckon  not  in  high  estate 

Whom  long  descent  of  birth 

Or  the  sphere  of  fortune  raises ; 

But  thee  whose  strength,  while  virtue  was  her  mate, 

Might  have  subdued  the  earth, 

Universally  crown'd  with  highest  praises. 

SAMSON. 

I  hear  the  sound  of  words',  their  sense  the  air 
Dissolves  unjointed  ere  it  reach  my  ear. 

CHOKUS. 

He  speaks,  let  us  draw  nigh.    Matchless  in  might, 
The  glory  late  of  Israel,  now  the  grief; 
We  come  thy  friends  and  neighbors,  not  unknown, 


366  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Frcnn  Eshtaol  and  Zora's  fruitfnl  vale 

To  visit  or  bewail  thee ;  or,  if  better, 

Counsel  or  consolation  we  may  bring, 

Salve  to  thy  sores ;  apt  words  have  power  to  -suage 

The  tumors  of  a  troubled  mind, 

And  are  as  balm  to  fester'd  wounds. 

3AMSOX. 

Your  coming,  friends,  revives  me,  for  I  learn 
Now  of  my  own  experience,  not  by  talk, 
How  counterfeit  a  coin  they  are  who  friends 
Bear  in  their  superscription,  (of  the  most 
I  would  be  understood :)  in  prosperous  days 
They  swarm,  but  in  adverse  withdraw  their  head, 
Not  to  be  found,  though  sought.     Ye  see,  0  friends. 
How  many  evils  have  inclosed  me  round ; 
Yet  that  which  was  the  worst  now  least  afflicts  me, 
Blindness,  for  had  I  sight,  confused  with  shame, 
How  could  I  once  look  up,  or  heave  the  head, 
Who  like  a  foolish  pilot  have  shipwrecked 
My  vessel  trusted  to  me  from  above, 
Gloriously  rigg'd ;  and  for  a  word,  a  tear, 
Fool !  have  divulged  the  secret  gift  of  God 
To  a  deceitful  woman  ?   Tell  me,  friends, 
Am  I  not  sung  and  proverb'd  for  a  fool 
In  every  street  ?    Do  they  not  say,  How  well 
Are  come  upon  him  his  deserts  ?   Yet  why  ? 
Immeasurable  strength  they  might  behold 
In  me,  of  wisdom  nothing  more  than  mean ; 
This  with  the  other  should,  at  least,  have  paired, 
These  two  proportion'd  ill  drove  me  transverse. 

•        CHORUS. 

Tax  not  divine  disposal ;  wisest  men 
Have  err'd,  and  by  bad  women  been  deceived ; 
And  shall  again,  pretend  they  ne'er  so  wise. 
Deject  not  then  so  overmuch  thyself, 
Who  hast  of  sorrow  thy  full  load  besides ; 
Yet  truth  to  say,  I  oft  have  heard  men  wonder 
Why  thou  shouldst  wed  Philistian  women  rather 
Than  of  thine  own  tribe  fairer,  or  as  fair, 
At  least  of  thy  own  nation,  and  as  noble. 


SAMS-ON    AGONISTES.  3G7 

SAMSOX. 

The  first  I  saw  at  Timma,  and  she  pleased 
Me,  not  my  parents,  that  I  sought  to  wed 
The  daughter  of  an  infidel :  they  knew  not 
That  what  I  motion'd  was  of  God ;  I  knew 
From  intimate  impulse,  and  therefore  urged 
The  marriage  on ;  that  by  occasion  hence 
I  might  begin  Israel's  deliverance, 
The  work  to  which  I  was  divinely  call'd. 
She  proving  false,  the  next  I  took  to  wife 
(Oh  that  I  never  had !  fond  wish  too  late) 
Was  in  the  vale  of  Sorec,  Dalila, 
That  specious  monster,  my  accomplish'd  snars. 
I  thought  it  lawful  from  my  former  act, 
And  the  same  end ;  still  watching  to  oppress 
Israel's  oppressors  :  of  what  now  I  suffer 
She  was  not  the  prime  cause,  but  I  myself, 
"Who  vanquished  with  a  peal  of  words  (O  weakness !) 
Gave  up  my  fort  of  silence  to  a  woman. 

CHORUS. 

In  seeking  just  occasion  to  provoke 
The  Philistine,  thy  country's  enemy, 
Thou  never  wast  remiss,  I  bear  thee  witness : 
Yet  Israel  still  serves  .with  all  his  sons. 

SAMSON. 

That  fault  I  take  not  on  me,  but  transfer 
On  Israel's  governors,  and  heads  of  tribes, 
Who  seeing  those  great  acts,  which  God  had  done 
Singly  by  me  against  their  conquerors, 
Acknowledged  not,  or  not  at  all  consider'd 
Deliverance  offer'd :  I,  on  the  other  side, 
Used  no  ambition  to  commend  my  deeds, 
The  deeds  themselves,  though  mute,  spoke  loud  the  doer , 
But  they  persisted  deaf,  and  would  not  seem 
To  count  them  things  worth  notice,  till  at  length 
Their  lords,  the  Philistines,  with  gather'd  powers 
Enter'd  Judea  seeking  me,  who  then 
Safe  to  the  rock  of  Etham  was  retired, 
Not  flying,  but  forecasting  in  what  place 
To  set  upon  them,  what  advantaged  best : 
Meanwhile  the  men  of  Judah,  to  prevent 


368  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

The  harass  of  their  land,  beset  ine  round  : 

I  willingly  on  some  conditions  came 

Into  their  hands,  and  they  as  gladly  yield  me 

To  the  uncircumcised  a  welcome  prey, 

Bound  with  two  cords ;  but  cords  to  me  were  threads 

Touch'd  with  the  flame :  on  their  whole  host  I  flew 

Unarm'd,  and  with  a  trivial  weapon  fell'd 

Their  choicest  youth ;  they  only  lived  who  fled. 

Had  Judah  that  day  join'd,  or  one  whole  tribe, 

They  had  by  this  possessed  the  towers  of  Gath, 

And  lorded  over  them  whom  now  they  serve. 

But  what  more  oft  in  nations  grown  corrupt, 

And  by  their  vices  brought  to  servitude, 

Than  to  love  bondage  more  than  liberty, 

Bondage  with  ease  than  strenuous  liberty ; 

And  to  despise,  or  envy,  or  suspect 

Whom  God  hath  of  his  special  favor  raised 

As  their  deliverer ;  if  he  aught  begin, 

How  frequent  to  desert  him,  and  at  last 

To  heap  ingratitude  on  worthiest  deeds  ? 

CHOEUS. 

Thy  words  to  my  remembrance  bring 
How  Succoth  and  the  fort  of  Penuel 
Their  great  deliverer  contemn'd, 
The  matchless  Gideon  in  pursuit 
Of  Madian  and  her  vanquished  kings ;. 
And  how  ungrateful  Ephraim 
Had  dealt  with  Jephtha,  who  by  argument, 
'Not  worse  than  by  his  shield  and  spear, 
Defended  Israel  from  the  Ammonite, 
Had  not  his  prowess  quell'd  their  pride 
In  that  sore  battle,  when  so  many  died 
Without  reprieve,  adjudged  to  death 
For  want  of  well  pronouncing  Shibboleth. 

SAMSON. 

Of  such  examples  add  me  to  the  rol), 
Me  easily  indeed  mine  may  neglect, 
But  God's  proposed  deliverance  not  so. 

CHORUS. 

Just  are  the  ways  of  God, 
And  justifiable  to  men; 


SAMSON   AGONISTES.  369 

Unless  there  be  who  think  not  God  at  all : 

If  any  be,  they  walk  obscure ; 

For  of  such  doctrine  never  was  there  school, 

But  the  heart  of  the  fool, 

And  no  man  therein  doctor  but  himself. 

Yet  more  there  be  who  doubt  his  ways  not  just, 
As  to  his  own  edicts  found  contradicting, 
Then  give  the  reins  to  wandering  thought, 
Regardless  of  his  glory's  diminution ; 
Till  by  their  own  perplexities  involved 
They  ravel  more,  still  less  resolved, 
But  never  find  self-satisfying  solution. 

As  if  they  would  confine  the  Interminable, 
And  tie  him  to  his  own  prescript, 
Who  made  our  laws  to  bind  us,  not  himself, 
And  hath  full  right  to  exempt 
Whom  so  it  pleases  him  by  choice 
From  national  obstriction,  without  taint 
Of  sin,  or  legal  debt ; 

For  with  his  own  laws  he  can  best  dispense. 
He  would  not  else,  who  never  wanted  means, 
Nor  in  respect  of  the  enemy  just  cause 
To  set  his  people  free, 
Have  prompted  this  heroic  IsTazarite, 
Against  his  vow  of  strictest  purity, 
To  seek  in  marriage  that  fallacious  bride, 
Unclean,  unchaste. 

Down  reason  then,  at  least  vain  reasonings  down, 
Though  reason  here  aver 
That  moral  verdict  quits  her  of  unclean : 
Unchaste  was  subsequent — her  stain,  not  his. 

But  see,  here  comes  thy  reverend  sire 
With  careful  step,  locks  white  as  down, 
Old  Manoah :  advise 
Forthwith  how  thou  oughtst  to  receive  him. 

SAMSON. 

Ay  me,  another  inward  grief  awaked 
With  mention  of  that  name  renews  the  assault. 

MANOAH. 

Brethren  and  men  of  Dan,  for  such  ye  seem, 
Though  in  this  uncouth  place ;  if  old  respect, 


370  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

As  I  suppose,  towards  your  once  gloried  friend, 
My  son  now  captive,  hither  hath  inform'd 
Your  younger  feet,  while  mine,  cast  back  with  age, 
Came  lagging  after ;  say  if  he  be  here. 

cnoEUS. 

As  signal  now  in  low  dejected  state, 
As  erst'in  highest,  behold  him  where  he  lies, 

MANOAH. 

0  miserable  change !  is  this  the  man, 
That  invincible  Samson,  far  renown'd, 
The  dread  of  Israel's  foes,  who  with  a  strength        , 
Equivalent  to  angels  walk'd  their  streets, 
None  offering  fight ;  who  single  combatant 
Duell'd  their  armies  rank'd  in  proud  array, 
Himself  an  army,  now  unequal  match 
To  save  himself  against  a  coward  ann'd 
At  one  spear's  length.     0  ever-failing  trust 
In  mortal  strength !  and  oh,  what  not  in  man 
Deceivable  and  vain?     Nay,  what  thing  good 
Pray'd  for,  but  often  proves  our  woe,  our  bane  ? 
I  pray'd  for  children,  and  thought  barrenness 
In  wedlock  a  reproach ;  I  gain'd  a  son, 
And  such  a  son  as  all  men  hail'd  me  happy ; 
Who  would  be  now  a  father  in  my  stead  ? 
O  wherefore  did  God  grant  me  my  request, 
And,  as  a  blessing,  with  such  pomp  adorn'd  ? 
Why  are  his  gifts  desirable,  to  tempt 
Our  earnest  prayers,  then  given  with  solemn  hand 
As  graces,  draw  a  scorpion's  tail  behind  ? 
For  this  did  the  angel  twice  descend?  for  this 
Ordain'd  thy  nurture  holy,  as  of  a  plant 
Select  and  sacred,  glorious  for  a  while, 
The  miracle  of  men ;  then  in  an  hour 
Ensnared,  assaulted,  overcome,  led  bound. 
Thy  foes'  derision,  captive,  poor,  and  blind, 
Into  a  dungeon  thrust,  to  work  with  slaves? 
Alas !  methinks  whom  God  hath  chosen  once 
To  worthiest  deeds,  if  he  through  frailty  err, 
He  should  not  so  o'erwhelm,  and  as  a  thrall 
Subject  him  to  so  foul  indignities, 
Be  it  but  for  honor's  sake  of  former  deeds. 


SAMSON   AOONISTES.  3*71 


SAMSON. 

Appoint  not  heavenly  disposition,  father ; 
Nothing  of  all  these  evils  hath  befallen  me 
But  justly;  I  myself  have  brought  them  on, 
Sole  author  I,  sole  cause :  if  aught  seem  vile, 
As  vile  hath  been  my  folly,  who  have  profaned 
The  mystery  of  God  given  me  under  pledge 
Of  vow,  and  have  betray'd  it  to  a  woman, 
A  Canaanite,  my  faithless  enemy. 
This  well  I  knew,  nor  was  at  all  surprised. 
But  warn'd  by  oft  experience :  did  not  she 
Of  Timna  first  betray  me,  and  reveal 
The  secret  wrested  from  me  in  her  height 
Of  nuptial  love  profess'd,  carrying  it  straight 
To  them  who  had  corrupted  her,  my  spies 
And  rivals  ?     In  this  other  was  there  found 
More  faith,  who  also  in  her  prime  of  love, 
Spousal  embraces,  vitiated  with  gold,  • 
Though  offer'd  only,  by  the  scent  conceived 
Her  spurious  first-born,  treason  against  me  ? 
Thrice  she  assay'd  with  flattering  prayers  and  sighs, 
And  amorous  reproaches,  to  win  from  me 
My  capital  secret,  in  what  part  my  strength 
Lay  stored,  in  what  part  summ'd,  that  she  might  know 
Thrice  I  deluded  her,  and  turn'd  to  sport 
Her  importunity,  each  time  perceiving 
How  openly,  and  with  what  impudence 
She  purposed  to  betray  me,  and  (which  was  worse 
Than  undissembled  hate)  with  what  contempt 
She  sought  to  make  me  traitor  to  myself; 
Yet  the  fourth  time,  when  mustering  all  her  wiles, 
With  blandish'd  parleys,  feminine  assaults, 
Tongue-batteries,  she  surceased  not  day  nor  night 
To  storm  me  over-watch'd,  and  wearied  out, 
At  times  when  men  seek  most  repose  and  rest, 
I  yielded,  and  unlock'd  her  all  my  heart, 
Who  with  a  grain  of  manhood  well  resolved 
Might  easily  have  shook  off  all  her  snares : 
But  foul  effeminacy  held  me  yoked 
Her  bond-slave.     O  indignity !    O  blot 
To  honor  and  religion  !  servile  mind 
Rewarded  well  with  servile  punishment ! 


872  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

The  base  degree  to  which  I  now  am  fallen, 
These  rags,  this  grinding,  is  not  yet  so  base 
As  was  rny  former  servitude,  ignoble, 
Unmanly,  ignominious,  infamous, 
True  slavery ;  and  that  blindness  worse  than  this, 
That  saw  not  how  degenerately  I  served. 

MANOAH. 

I  cannot  praise  thy  marriage  choices,  son, 
Rather  approved  them  not ;  but  thou  didst  plead 
Divine  impulsion  prompting  how  thou  mightst 
Find  some  occasion  to  infest  our  foes. 
I  state  not  that ;  this  I  am  sure,  our  foes 
Found  soon  occasion  thereby  to  make  thee 
Their  captive,  and  their  triumph ;  thou  the  sooner 
Temptation  found'st,  or  over-potent  charms 
To  violate  the  sacred  trust  of  silence 
Deposited  within  thee ;  which  to  have  kept 
Tacit,  was  in  thy  power :  true,  and  thou  bear'st 
Enough,  and  more,  the  burden  of  that  fault ; 
Bitterly  hast  thou  paid,  and  still  art  paying 
That  rigid  score.     A  worse  thing  yet  remains  ; 
This  day  the  Philistines  a  popular  feast 
Here  celebrate  in  Gaza ;  and  proclaim 
Great  pomp,  and  sacrifice,  and  praises  loud 
To  Dagon,  as  their  god  who  hath  delivered 
Thee,  Samson,  bound  and  blind  into  their  hands, 
Them  out  of  thine,  who  slew'st  them  many  a  slain. 
So  Dagon  shall  be  magnified,  and  God, 
Besides  whom  is  no  god,  compared  with  idols, 
Disglorified,  blasphemed,  and  had  in  scorn 
By  the  idolatrous  rout  amidst  their  wine ; 
Which  to  have  come  to  pass  by  means  of  thee, 
Samson,  of  all  thy  sufferings  think  the  heaviest, 
Of  all  reproach  the  most  with  shame  that  ever 
Could  have  befallen  thee  and  thy  father  s  house. 

SAMSON. 

Father,  I  do  acknowledge  and  confess 
That  I  this  honor,.  I  this  pomp  have  brought 
To  Dagon,  and  advanced  his  praises  high 
Among  the  heathen  round ;  to  God  have  brought 
Dishonor,  obloquy,  and  oped  the  mouths 


SAMSON    AGOXISTES.  373 

Of  idolists  and  atheists ;  have  brought  scandal 
To  Israel,  diffidence  of  God,  and  doubt 
In  feeble  hearts,  propense  enough  before 
To  waver,  or  fall  off  and  join  with  idols ; 
Which  is  my  chief  affliction,  shame,  and  sorrow, 
The  anguish  of  my  soul,  that  suffers  not 
Mine  eye  to  harbor  sleep,  or  thoughts  to  rest. 
This  only  hope  relieves  me,  that  the  strife 
With  me  hath  end ;  all  the  contest  is  now 
'Twixt  God  and  Dagon ;  Dagon  hath  presumed, 
Me  overthrown,  to  enter  lists  with  God, 
His  deity  comparing  and  preferring 
Before  the  God  of  Abraham.     He,  be  sure, 
Will  not  connive,  or  linger,  thus  provoked, 
But  will  arise  and  his  great  name  assert : 
Dagon  must  stoop,  and  shall  ere  long  receive 
Such  a  discomfit,  as  shall  quite  despoil  him 
Of  all  these  boasted  trophies  won  on  me, 
And  with  confusion  blank  his  worshippers. 

MANOAH. 

With  cause  this  hope  relieves  thee,  and  these  words 
I  as  a  prophecy  receive ;  for  God, 
Nothing  more  certain,  will  not  long  defer 
To  vindicate  the  glory  of  his  name 
Against  all  competition,  nor  will  long 
Endure  it  doubtful  whether  God  be  Lord, 
Or  Dagon.    But  for  thee  what  shall  be  done  ? 
Thou  must  not  in  the  mean  while  here  forgot 
Lie  in  this  miserable  loathsome  plight 
Neglected.    I  already  have  made  way 
To  some  Philistian  lords,  with  whom  to  treat 
About  thy  ransom :  well  they  may  by  this 
Have  satisfied  their  utmost  of  revenge 
By  pains  and  slaveries,  worse  than  death,  inflicted 
On  thee,  who  now  no  more  canst  do  them  harm. 

SAMSON. 

Spare  that  proposal,  father,  spare  the  trouble 
Of  that  solicitation ;  let  me  here, 
As  I  deserve,  pay  on  my  punishment ; 
And  expiate,  if  possible,  my  crime, 
Shameful  garrulity.    To  have  reveaFd 

32 


374  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORK*. 

Secrets  ot  men,  the  secrets  of  a  friend, 
How  heinous  had  the  fact  been,  how  deserving 
Contempt  and  scorn  of  all,  to  be  excluded 
All  friendship,  and  avoided  as  a  blab, 
The  mark  of  fool  set  on  his  front !    But  I 
God's  counsel  have  not  kept,  his  holy  secret 
Presumptuously  have  published,  impiously, 
Weakly  at  least,  and  shamefully ;  a  sin 
That  Gentiles  in  their  parables  condemn 
To  their  abyss  and  horrid  pains  confined. 

MANOAH. 

Be  penitent  and  for  thy  fault  contrite, 
But  act  not  in  thy  own  affliction,  son ; 
Repent  the  sin,  but  if  the  punishment 
Thou  canst  avoid,  self-preservation  bids ; 
Or  the  execution  leave  to  high  disposal, 
And  let  another  hand,  not  thine,  exact 
Thy  penal  forfeit  from  thyself:  perhaps 
God  will  relent,  and  quit  thee  all  his  debt ; 
Who  evermore  approves  and  more  accepts 
(Best  pleased  with  humble  and  filial  submission) 
Him  who,  imploring  mercy,  sues  for  life, 
Than  who  self-rigorous  chooses  death  as  due ; 
Which  argues  over-just,  and  self-displeased 
For  self-offence,  more  than  for  God  offended. 
Reject  not  then  what  offer'd  means ;  who  knows 
But  God  hath  set  before  us,  to  return  thee 
Home  to  thy  country  and  his  sacred  house, 
Where  thou  mayst  bring  thy  offerings,  to  avert 
His  further  ire,  with  prayers  and  vows  renew'd  ? 

SAMSOX. 

His  pardon  I  implore ;  but  as  for  life, 
To  what  end  should  I  seek  it  ?    When  in  strength 
All  mortals  I  excell'd,  and  great  in  hopes 
With  youthful  courage  and  magnanimous  thoughts 
Of  birth  from  Heaven  foretold  and  high  exploits, 
Full  of  divine  instinct,  after  some  proof 
Of  acts  indeed  heroic,  far  beyond 
The  sons  of  Anak,  famous  now  and  blazed, 
Fearless  of  danger,  like  a  petty  god 
I  walk'd  about  admired  of  all,  and  dreaded 


SAMSON   AGONISTES.  375 

On  hostile  ground,  none  daring  my  affront. 
Then,  swollen  with  pride,  into  the  snare  I  fell 
Of  fair  fallacious  looks,  venereal  trains, 
Soften'd  with  pleasure  and  voluptuous  life ; 
At  length  to  lay  my  head  and  hallow'd  pledge 
Of  all  my  strength  in  the  lascivious  lap 
Of  a  deceitful  concubine,  who  shore  me 
Like  a  tame  wether,  all  my  precious  fleece, 
Then  turn'd  me  out  ridiculous,  despoil'd, 
Shaven,  and  disarin'd  among  mine  enemies. 

CHORUS. 

Desire  of  wine  and  all  delicious  drinks, 
Which  many  a  famous  warrior  overturns, 
Thou  couldst  repress,  nor  did  the  dancing  ruby 
Sparkling,  out-pour'd,  the  flavor,  or  the  smell, 
Or  taste  that  cheers  the  heart  of  gods  and  men, 
Allure  thee  from  the  cool  crystalline  stream. 

SAMSON. 

Wherever  fountain  or  fresh  current  flow'd 
Against  the  eastern  ray,  translucent,  pure, 
With  touch  ethereal  of  Heaven's  fiery  rod, 
I  drank,  from  the  clear  milky  juice  allaying 
Thirst,  and  refresh'd ;  nor  envied  them  the  grape 
Whose  heads  that  turbulent  liquor  fills  with  fumes. 

CHOEUS. 

O  madness,  to  think  use  of  strongest  wines 
And  strongest  drinks  our  chief  support  of  health, 
When  God  with  these  forbidden  made  choice  to  rear 
His  mighty  champion,  strong  above  compare, 
Whose  drink  was  only  from  the  liquid  brook. 

SAMSON. 

But  what  avail'd  this  temperance,  not  complete 
Against  another  object  more  enticing  ? 
What  boots  it  at  one  gate  to  make  defence, 
And  at  another  to  let  in  the  foe, 
Effeminately  vanquished  ?  by  which  means, 
Now  blind,  dishearten'd,  shamed,  dishonor'd,  quell'd, 
To  what  can  I  be  useful,  wherein  serve 
My  nation,  and  the  work  from  Heaven  imposed, 


376  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

But  to  sit  idle  on  the  household  hearth, 

A  burdenous  drone ;  to  visitants  a  gaze, 

Or  pitied  object,  these  redundant  locks 

Robustious  to  no  purpose  clustering  down, 

Vain  monument  of  strength ;  till  length  of  years, 

And  sedentary  numbness,  craze  my  limbs 

To  a  contemptible  old  age  obscure  ? 

Here  rather  let  me  drudge  and  earn  my  bread, 

Till  vermin  or  the  draff  of  servile  food 

Consume  me,  and  oft-invocated  death 

Hasten  the  welcome  end  of  all  my  pains. 

MANOAH. 

Wilt  thou  then  serve  the  Philistines  with  that  gift 
"Which  was  expressly  given  thee  to  annoy  them  ? 
Better  at  home  lie  bed-rid,  not  only  idle, 
Inglorious,  unemploy'd,  with  age  outworn. 
But  God,  who  caused  a  fountain  at  thy  prayer 
From  the  dry  ground  to  spring,  thy  thirst  to  allay 
After  the  brunt  of  battle,  can  as  easy 
Cause  light  again  within  thy  eyes  to  spring, 
Wherewith  to  serve  him  better  than  thou  hast : 
And  I  persuade  me  so ;  why  else  this  strength 
Miraculous  yet  remaining  in  those  locks  ? 
His  might  continues  in  thee  not  for  naught, 
Nor  shall  his  wondrous  gifts  be  frustrate  thus. 

SAMSON. 

All  otherwise  to  me  my  thoughts  portend, 
That  these  dark  orbs  no  more  shall  treat  with  .ight, 
Nor  the  other  light  of  life  continue  long, 
But  yield  to  double  darkness  nigh  at  hand : 
So  much  I  feel  my  genial  spirits  droop, 
My  hopes  all  flat,  nature  within  me  seems 
In  all  her  functions  weary  of  herself, 
My  race  of  glory  run,  and  race  of  shame, 
And  I  shall  shortly  be  with  them  that  rest. 

MANOAII. 

Believe  not  these  suggestions,  which  proceed 
From  anguish  of  the  mind  and  humors  black, 
That  mingle  with  thy  fancy.    I,  however, 
Must  not  omit  a  father's  timely  care 


SAMSON    AGONISTES.  377 

To  prosecute  the  means  of  thy  deliverance 
By  ransom,  or  how  else :  meanwhile  be  calm, 
And  healing  words  from  these  thy  friends  admit. 

SAMSON. 

0  that  torment  should  not  be  confined 
To  the  body's  wounds  and  sores, 

With  maladies  innumerable 

In  heart,  head,  breast,  and  reins ; 

But  must  secret  passage  find 

To  the  inmost  mind, 

There  exercise  all  his  fierce  accidents, 

And  on  her  purest  spirits  prey, 

As  on  entrails,  joints,  and  limbs, 

"With  answerable  pains,  but  more  intense, 

Though  void  of  corporal  sense  ! 

My  griefs  not  only  pain  me 
As  a  lingering  disease, 
But,  finding  no  redress,  ferment  and  rage, 
Nor  less  than  wounds  immedicable 
Rankle,  and  fester,  and  gangrene, 
To  black  mortification. 

Thoughts  my  tormentors  arm'd  with  deadly  stings 
Mangle  my  apprehensive  tenderest  parts, 
Exasperate,  exulcerate,  and  raise 
Dire  inflammation,  which  no  cooling  herb 
Or  medicinal  liquor  can  assuage, 
Nor  breath  of  vernal  air  from  snowy  Alp. 
Sleep  hath  forsook  and  given  me  o'er 
To  death's  benumbing  opium  as  my  only  cure ; 
These  fainting?,  swoonings  of  despair, 
And  sense  of  Heaven's  desertion. 

1  was  his  nursling  once  and  choice  delight, 
His  destined  from  the  womb, 

Promised  by  heavenly  message  twice  descending. 

Under  his  special  eye 

Abstemious  I  grew  up  and  thrived  amain ; 

He  led  me  on  to  mightiest  deeds 

Above  the  nerve  of  mortal  arm 

Against  the  uncircumcised,  our  enemies : 

But  now  hath  cast  me  off  as  never  known, 

And  to  those  cruel  enemies, 

Whom  I  by  his  appointment  had  provoked, 


878  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Left  me  all  helpless  with  the  irreparable  loss 
Of  sight^  reserved  alive  to  be  repeated 
The  subject  of  their  cruelty  or  scorn. 
Nor  am  I  in  the  list  of  them  that  hope ; 
Hopeless  are  all  my  evils,  all  remediless ; 
This  one  prayer  yet  remains,  might  I  be  heard, 
No  long  petition — speedy  death, 
The  close  of  all  my  miseries,  and  the  balm. 

cnoEUS. 

Many  are  the  sayings  of  the  wise 
In  ancient  and  in  modern  books  enrolFd, 
Extolling  patience  as  the  truest  fortitude ; 
And  to  the  bearing  well  of  all  calamities, 
All  chances  incident  to  man's  frail  life, 
Consolatories  writ 

With  studied  argument,  and  much  persuasion  sought 
Lenient  of  grief  and  anxious  thought : 
But  with  the*  afflicted  in  his  pangs  their  sound 
Little  prevails,  or  rather  seems  a  tune 
Harsh,  and  of  dissonant  mood  from  his  complaint ; 
Unless  he  feel  within 
Some  source  of  consolation  from  above, 
Secret  refreshings,  that  repair  his  strength, 
And  fainting  spirits  uphold. 

God  of  our  fathers !  what  is  man, 
That  thou  towards  him  with  hand  so  various, 
Or  might  I  say  contrarious, 

Temperest  thy  providence  through  his  short  course, 
Not  evenly,  as  thou  rul'st 
The  angelic  orders  and  inferior  creatures  mute, 
Irrational  and  brute. 
Nor  do  I  name  of  men  the  common  rout, 
That  wandering  loose  about 
Grow  up  and  perish,  as  the  summer  fly, 
Heads  without  name  no  more  remember'd, 
But  such  as  thou  hast  solemnly  elected, 
"With  gifts  and  graces  eminently  adorn'd 
To  some  great  work,  thy  glory, 
And  people's  safety,  which  in  part  they  effect  : 
Yet  toward  these  thus  dignified,  thou  oft 
Amidst  their  height  of  noon 
Changest  thy  countenance,  and  thy  hand  with  no  regard 


SAMSON   AGONISTES.  3*79 

Of  highest  favors  past 

From  thee  on  them,  or  them  to  thee  of  service. 

Nor  only  dost  degrade  them,  or  remit 
To  life  obscured,  which  were  a  fair  dismission, 
But  throw'st  them  lower  than  thou  didst  exalt  them  high, 
Unseemly  falls  in  human  eye, 
Too  grievous  for  the  trespass  or  omission ; 
Oft  leav'st  them  to  the  hostile  sword 
Of  heathen  and  profane,  their  carcases 
To  dogs  and  fowls  a  prey,  or  else  captived ; 
Or  to  the  unjust  tribunals,  under  change  of  times, 
And  condemnation  of  the  ungrateful  multitude. 
If  these  they  'scape,  perhaps  in  poverty 
With  sickness  and  disease  thou  bowVt  them  down, 
Painful  diseases  and  deform'd, 
In  crude  old  age ; 

Though  not  disordinate,  yet  causeless  suffering 
The  punishment  of  dissolute  days :  in  fine, 
Just  or  unjust  alike  seem  miserable, 
For  oft  alike  both  come  to  evil  end. 

So  deal  not  with  this  once  thy  glorious  champion, 
The  image  of  thy  strength,  and  mighty  minister. 
What  do  I  beg?    How  hast  thou  dealt  already  ? 
Behold  him  in  this  state  calamitous,  and  turn 
His  labors,  for  thou  canst,  to  peaceful  end. 

But  who  is  this,  what  thing  of  sea  or  land  ? 
Female  of  sex  it  seems, 
That  so  bedeck'd,  ornate,  and  gay, 
Comes  this  way  sailing 
Like  a  stately  ship 
Of  Tarsus,  bound  for  the  isles 
Of  Javan  or  Gadire, 

With  all  her  bravery  on,  and  tackle  trim, 
Sails  fill'd,  and  streamers  waving, 
Courted  by  all  the  winds  that  hold  them  play, 
An  amber  scent  of  odorous  perfume 
Her  harbinger,  a  damsel  train  behind : 
Some  rich  Philistian  matron  she  may  seem  ; 
And  now,  at  nearer  view,  no  other  certain 
Than  Dalila  thy  wife. 

SAMSOtf. 

My  wife,  my  traitress !  let  her  not  come  near  me. 


#80  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

CHOEUS. 

Yet  on  she  moves ;  now  stands  and  eyes  thee  fixM, 
About  to  have  spoke ;  but  now,  with  head  declined 
Like  a  fair  flower  surcharged  with  dew,  she  weeps, 
And  words  address'd  seem  into  tears  dissolved, 
"Wetting  the  borders  of  her  silken  veil : 
But  now  again  she  makes  address  to  speak. 

DALILA. 

"With  doubtful  feet  and  wavering  resolution 
I  came,  still  dreading  thy  displeasure,  Samson, 
"Which  to  have  merited,  without  excuse, 
I  cannot  but  acknowledge ;  yet  if  tears 
May  expiate  (though  the  fact  more  evil  drew 
In  the  perverse  event  than  I  foresaw) 
My  penance  hath  not  slackened,  though  my  pardon 
No  way  assured.    But  conjugal  affection, 
Prevailing  over  fear  and  timorous  doubt, 
Hath  led  me  on,  desirous  to  behold 
Once  more  thy  face,  and  know  of  thy  estate, 
If  aught  in  my  ability  may  serve 
To  lighten  what  thou  suffer'st,  and  appease 
Thy  mind  with  what  amends  is  in  my  power, 
Though  late,  yet  in  some  part  to  recompense 
My  rash  but  more  unfortunate  misdeed. 

SAMSON. 

Out,  out,  hya3na !  these  are  thy  wonted  arts, 
And  arts  of  every  woman  false  like  thee, 
To  break  all  faith,  all  vows,  deceive,  betray ; 
Then  as  repentant  to  submit,  beseech, 
And  reconcilement  move  with  feign'd  remorse, 
Confess,  and  promise  wonders  in  her  change, 
Not  truly  penitent,  but  chief  to  try 
Her  husband,  how  far  urged  his  patience  bears, 
His  virtue  or  weakness  which  way  to  assail : 
Then  with  more  cautious  and  instructed  skill 
Again  transgresses,  and  again  submits  ; 
That  wisest  and  best  men  full  oft  beguiled, 
"With  goodness  principled  not  to  reject 
The  penitent,  but  ever  to  forgive, 
Are  drawn  to  wear  out  miserable  days, 


SAMSON   AGONISTES.  381 

Entangled  with  a  poisonous  bosom  snake, 
If  not  by  quick  destruction  soon  cut  off, 
As  I  by  thee,  to  ages  an  example. 

DALILA. 

Yet  hear  me,  Samson ;  not  that  I  endeavor 
To  lessen  or  extenuate  my  offence, 
But  that  on  the  other  side,  if  it  be  weighed 
By  itself,  with  aggravations  not  surcharged, 
Or  else  with  just  allowance  counterpoised, 
1  may,  if  possible,  thy  pardon  find 
The  easier  towards  me,  or  thy  hatred  less. 
First  granting,  as  I  do,  it  was  a  weakness 
In  me,  but  incident  to  all  our  sex, 
Curiosity,  inquisitive,  importune 
Of  secrets,  then  with  like  infirmity 
To  publish  them,  both  common  female  faults : 
Was  it  not  weakness  also  to  make  known 
For  importunity,  that  is  for  naught, 
Wherein  consisted  all  thy  strength  and  safety  ? 
To  what  I  did  thou  show'dst  me  first  the  way. 
But  I  to  enemies  reveal'd,  and  should  not : 
For  shouldst  thou  have  trusted  that  to  woman's  frailty: 
Ere  I  to  thee,  thou  to  thyself  wast  cruel. 
Let  weakness  then  with  weakness  come  to  parle, 
So  near  related,  or  the  same  of  kind, 
Thine  forgive  mine ;  that  men  may  censure  thine 
The  gentler,  if  severely  thou  exact  not 
More  strength  from  me,  than  in  thyself  was  found. 
And  what  if  love,  which  thou  interpret'st  hate, 
The  jealousy  of  love,  powerful  of  sway 
In  human  hearts,  nor  less  in  mine  towards  thee, 
Caused  what  I  did?    I  saw  thee  mutable 
Of  fancy ;  fear'd  lest  one  day  thou  wouldst  leave  me 
As  her  at  Timna ;  sought  by  all  means  therefore 
How  to  endear,  and  hold  thee  to  me  firmest : 
No  better  way  I  saw  than  by  importuning 
To  learn  thy  secrets,  get  into  my  power 
Thy  key  of  strength  and  safety.    Thou  wilt  say, 
Why  then  reveaPd?    I  was  assured  by  those 
Who  tempted  me,  that  nothing  was  designed 
Against  thee  but  safe  custody,  and  hold. 
That  made  for  me ;  I  knew  that  liberty 


382  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Would  draw  thee  forth  to  perilous  enterprises, 

While  I  at  home  sat  full  of  cares  and  fears, 

Wa;ling  thy  absence  in  my  widow'd  bed ; 

Here  I  should  still  enjoy  thee  day  and  night, 

Mine  and  love's  prisoner,  not  the  Philistines, 

Whole  to  myself,  unhazarded  abroad, 

Fearless  at  home  of  partners  in  my  love. 

These  reasons  in  love's  law  have  pass'd  for  good, 

Though  fond  and  reasonless  to  some,  perhaps ; 

And  love  hath  oft,  well-meaning,  wrought  nmcir*  woe, 

Yet  always  pity  or  pardon  hath  obtain'd. 

Be  not  unlike  all  others,  not  austere 

As  thou  art  strong,  inflexible  as  steel. 

If  thou  in  strength  all  mortals  dost  exceed, 

In  uncompassionate  anger  do  not  so. 

SAMSON. 

How  cunningly  the  sorceress  displays 
Her  own  transgressions,  to  upbraid  me  mine ! 
That  malice,  not  repentance,  brought  thee  hither, 
By  this  appears :  I  gave,  thou  say'st,  the  example  ; 
I  led  the  way :  bitter  reproach,  but  true ; 
I  to  myself  was  false  ere  thou  to  me. 
Such  pardon  therefore  as  I  give  my  folly, 
Take  to  thy  wicked  deed ;  which  when  thou  seest 
Impartial,  self-severe,  inexorable, 
Thou  wilt  renounce  thy  seeking,  and  much  rather 
Confess  it  feign'd.     Weakness  is  thy  excuse, 
And  I  believe  it,  weakness  to  resist 
Philistian  gold :  if  weakness  may  excuse, 
What  murderer,  what  traitor,  parricide, 
Incestuous,  sacrilegious,  but  may  plead  it  ? 
All  wickedness  is  weakness :  that  plea,  therefore, 
With  God  or  man  will  gain  thee  no  remission. 
But  love  constrained  thee ;  call  it  furious  rage 
To  satisfy  thy  lust :  love  seeks  to  have  love : 
My  love  how  couldst  thou  hope,  who  took'st  the  way 
To  raise  in  me  inexpiable  hate, 
Knowing,  as  needs  I  must,  by  thee  betray'd? 
In  vain  thou  striv'st  to  cover  shame  with  shame, 
Or  by  evasions  thy  crime  uncover'st  more. 


SAMSON    AGONISTES.  383 


DALILA. 

Since  thou  determin'st  weakness  for  no  plea 

In  man  or  woman,  though  to  thy  own  condemning, 

Hear  what  assaults  I  had,  what  snares  besides, 

What  sieges  girt  me  round,  ere  I  consented ; 

Which  might  have  awed  the  best  resolved  of  men, 

The  constantest,  to  have  yielded  without  blame. 

It  was  not  gold,  as  to  my  charge  thou  lay'st, 

That  wrought  with  me :  thou  know'st  the  magistrates 

And  princes  of  my  country  came  in  person, 

Solicited,  commanded,  threatened,  urged, 

Adjured  by  all  the  bonds  of  civil  duty 

And  of  religion ;  press'd  how  just  it  was, 

How  honorable,  how  glorious  to  entrap 

A  common  enemy,  who  had  destroy'd 

Such  numbers  of  our  nation :  and  the  priest 

Was  not  behind,  but  ever  at  my  ear, 

Preaching  how  meritorious  with  the  gods 

It  would  be  to  ensnare  an  irreligious 

Dishonorer  of  Dagon :  what  had  I 

To  oppose  against  such  powerful  arguments  ? 

Only  my  love  of  thee  held  long  debate, 

And  combated  in  silence  all  these  reasons 

With  hard  contest :  at  length  that  grounded  maxim 

So  rife  and  celebrated  in  the  mouths 

Of  wisest  men,  that  to  the  public  good 

Private  respects  must  yield,  with  grave  authority 

Took  full  possession  of  me  and  prevail'd ; 

Virtue,  as  I  thought,  truth,  duty,  so  enjoining. 

SAMSON. 

I  thought  where  all  thy  circling  wiles  would  end, 
In  feign'd  religion,  smooth  hypocrisy. 
But  had  thy  love,  still  odiously  pretended, 
Been,  as  it  ought,  sincere,  it  would  have  taught  thee 
Far  other  reasonings,  brought  forth  other  deeds. 
I,  before  all  the  daughters  of  my  tribe 
And  of  my  nation,  chose  thee  from  among 
My  enemies,  loved  thee,  as  too  well  thou  knew'st, 
Too  well,  unbosom'd  all  my  secrets  to  thee, 
Not  out  of  levity,  but  overpower'd 
By  thy  request,  who  could  deny  thee  nothing ; 


384  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Yet  now  am  judged  an  enemy.     "Why  then 

Didst  thou  at  first  receive  me  for  thy  husband, 

Then,  as  since  then,  thy  country's  foe  profess'd  ? 

Being  once  a  wife,  for  me  thou  wast  to  leave 

Parents  and  country ;  nor  was  I  their  subject, 

Nor  under  their  protection,  but  my  own, 

Thou  mine,  not  theirs :  if  aught  against  my  life 

Thy  country  sought  of  thee,  it  sought  unjustly, 

Against  the  law  of  nature,  law  of  nations, 

No  more  thy  country,  but  an  impious  crew 

Of  men  conspiring  to  uphold  their  state 

By  worse  than  hostile  deeds,  violating  the  ends 

For  which  our  country  is  a  name  so  dear ; 

Not  therefore  to  be  obey'd.    But  zeal  moved  thee ; 

To  please  thy  gods  thou  didst  it :  gods  unable 

To  acquit  themselves  and  prosecute  their  foes 

But  by  ungodly  deeds,  the  contradiction 

Of  their  own  deity,  gods  cannot  be ; 

Less  therefore  to  be  pleased,  obey'd,  or  fear'd. 

These  false  pretexts  and  varnish'd  colors  failing, 

Bare  in  thy  guilt  how  foul  must  thou  appear ! 

DALILA. 

In  argument  with  men  a  woman  ever 
Goes  by  the  worse,  whatever  be  her  cause. 

SAMSON. 

For  want  of  words,  no  doubt,  or  lack  of  breath ; 
Witness  when  I  was  worried  with  thy  peals. 

DALILA. 

I  was  a  fool,  too  rash,  and  quite  mistaken 
In  what  I  thought  would  have  succeeded  best. 
Let  me  obtain  forgiveness  of  thee,  Samson ; 
Afford  me  place  to  show  what  recompense 
Towards  thee  I  intend  for  what  I  have  misdone, 
Misguided ;  only  what  remains  past  cure 
Bear  not  too  sensibly,  nor  still  insist 
To  afflict  thyself  in  vain :  though  sight  be  lost, 
Life  yet  hath  many  solaces,  enjoy'd 
Where  other  senses  want  not  their  delights, 
At  home  in  leisure  and  domestic  ease, 
Exempt  from  many  a  care  and  chance  to  which 


SAMSON    AGONISTES.  38J 

Eyesight  exposes  daily  men  abroad. 

I  to  the  lords  will  intercede,  not  doubting 

Their  favorable  ear,  that  I  may  fetch  thee 

From  forth  this  loathsome  prison-house,  to  abide 

With  me,  where  my  redoubled  love  and  care 

"With  nursing  diligence,  to  me  glad  office, 

May  ever  tend  about  thee  to  old  age 

With  all  things  grateful  cheer'd,  and  so  supplied 

That  what  by  me  thou  hast  lost  thou  least  shalt  miss. 

SAMSON. 

No,  no,  of  my  condition  take  no  care; 
It  fits  not ;  thou  and  I  long  since  are  twain : 
Nor  think  me  so  unwary  or  accursed, 
To  bring  my  feet  again  into  the  snare 
Where  once  I  have  been  caught ;   I  know  thy  trains, 
Though  dearly  to  rny  cost,  thy  gins,  and  toils ; 
Thy  fair  enchanted  cup  and  warbling  charms 
No  more  on  me  have  power,  their  force  is  null'd, 
So  much  of  adder's  wisdom  I  have  learn'd 
To  fence  my  ear  against  thy  sorceries. 
If  in  my  flower  of  youth  and  strength,  when  all  men 
Loved,  honor'd,  fear'd  me,  thou  alone  couldst  hate  me 
Thy  husband,  slight  me,  sell  me,  and  forego  me ; 
How  wouldst  thou  use  me  now,  blind,  and  thereby 
Deceivable,  in  most  things  as  a  child 
Helpless,  thence  easily  contemn'd,  and  scorn'd, 
And  last  neglected !     How  wouldst  thou  insult, 
When  I  must  live  uxorious  to  thy  will 
In  perfect  thraldom ;  how  again  betray  me, 
Bearing  my  words  and  doings  to  the  lords 
To  gloss  upon,  and  censuring,  frown  or  smile ! 
This  jail  I  count  the  house  of  liberty 
To  thine,  whose  doors  my  feet  shall  never  enter. 

DALILA. 

Let  me  approach,  at  least,  and  touch  thy  hand. 

SAMSON. 

Not  for  thy  life,  lest  fierce  remembrance  wake 
My  sudden  rage  to  tear  thee  joint  by  joint. 
At  distance  I  forgive  thee,  go  with  that ; 
Bewail  thy  falsehood,  and  the  piou?  works 

83 


386  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

It  hath  brought  forth  to  make  thee  memorable 
Among  illustrious  women,  faithful  wives : 
Cherish  thy  hasten'd  widowhood  with  the  gold 
Of  matrimonial  treason :  so  farewell. 

DALILA. 

I  see  thou  art  implacable,  more  deaf 
To  prayers  than  grinds  and  seas  ;  yet  winds  to  seaa 
Are  reconciled  at  length,  and  sea  to  shore: 
Thy  anger,  unappeasable,  still  rages, 
Eternal  tempest  never  to  be  calm'd. 
Why  do  I  humble  thus  myself,  and  suing 
For  peace,  reap  nothing  but  repulse  and  hate  ? 
Bid  go  with  evil  omen,  and  the  brand 
Of  infamy  upon  my  name  denounced  ? 
To  mix  with  thy  concernments  I  desist 
Henceforth,  nor  too  much  disapprove  my  own. 
Fame,  if  not  double-faced,  is  double-mouth'd, 
And  with  contrary  blast  proclaims  most  deeds ; 
On  both  his  wings,  one  black,  the  other  white, 
Bears  greatest  names  in  his  wild  airy  flight. 
My  name  perhaps  among  the  circumcised 
In  Dan,  in  Judah,  and  the  bordering  tribes, 
To  all  posterity  may  stand  defamed, 
With  malediction  mention'd,  and  the  blot 
Of  falsehood  most  unconjugal  traduced  : 
But  in  my  country  where  I  most  desire, 
(In  Ecron,  Gaza,  Asdod,  and  in  Gath,) 
I  shall  be  named  among  the  famousest 
Of  women,  sung  at  solemn  festivals, 
Living  and  dead  recorded,  who  to  save 
Her  country  from  a  fierce  destroyer  chose 
Above  the  faith  of  wedlock-bands,  my  tomb 
With  odors  visited  and  annual  flowers ; 
Not  less  renown'd  than  in  Mount  Ephraim 
Jael,  who  with  inhospitable  guile 
Smote  Sisera  sleeping  through  the  temples  nail'd. 
Nor  shall  I  count  it  heinous  to  enjoy 
The  public  marks  of  honor  and  reward 
Conferred  upon  me,  for  the  piety 
Which  to  my  country  I  was  judged  to  have  shown. 
At  this  whoever  envies  or  repines, 
I  leave  him  to  his  lot,  and  like  my  own. 


SAMSON    AGONISTEfe.  387 

CHORUS. 

She's  gone,  a  manifest  serpent  by  her  sting 
Discovered  in  the  end,  till  now  concealed. 

SAMSON. 

So  let  her  go ;  God  sent  her  to  debase  me, 
And  aggravate  my  folly,  who  committed 
To  such  a  viper  his  most  sacred  trust 
Of  secrecy,  my  safety,  and  my  life. 

cnoBUS. 

Yet  beauty,  though  injurious,  hath  strange  power, 
After  offence  returning,  to  regain 
Love  once  possess'd,  nor  can  be  easily 
Repulsed  without  much  inward  passion  felt, 
And  secret  sting  of  amorous  remorse. 

SAMSON. 

Love-quarrels  oft  in  pleasing  concord  end, 
Not  wedlock-treachery  endangering  life. 

CHOKUS. 

It  is  not  virtue,  wisdom,  valor,  wit, 
Strength,  comeliness  of  shape,  or  amplest  merit, 
That  woman's  love  can  win  or  long  inherit ; 
But  what  it  is,  hard  is  to  say, 
Harder  to  hit, 

(Which  way  soever  men  refer  it ;) 
Much  like  thy  riddle,  Samson,  in  one  day 
Or  seven,  though  one  should  musing  sit. 

If  any  of  these,  or  all,  the  Timnian  bride 
Had  not  so  soon  preferr'd 
Thy  paranymph,  worthless  to  thee  compared, 
Successor  in  thy  bed, 
Nor  both  so  loosely  disallied 
Their  nuptials,  nor  this  last  so  treacherously 
Had  shorn  the  fatal  harvest  of  thy  head. 
Is  it  for  that  such  outward  ornament 
Was  lavished  on  their  sex,  that  inward  gifts 
Were  left  for  haste  unfinish'd,  judgment  scant, 
Capacity  not  raised  to  apprehend 
Or  value  what  is  best 
In  choice,  but  oftest  to  affect  the  wrong? 


388  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Or  was  too  much  of  self-love  mix'd. 

Of  constancy  no  root  infix'd, 

That  either  they  love  nothing,  or  not  long  ? 

"Whatever  it  be,  to  wisest  men  and  best 
Seeming  at  first  all  heavenly  under  virgin  veil, 
Soft,  modest,  meek,  demure, 
Once  join'd,  the  contrary  she  proves,  a  thorn 
Intestine,  far  within  defensive  arms 
A  cleaving  mischief,  in  his  way  to  virtue 
Adverse  and  turbulent,  or  by  her  charms 
Draws  him  awry  enslaved 
With  dotage,  and  his  sense  depraved 
To  folly  and  shameful  deeds  which  ruin  ends. 
"What  pilot  so  expert  but  needs  must  wreck 
Embark'd  with  such  a  steersmate  at  the  helm  ? 

Favor'd  of  Heaven  who  finds 
One  virtuous  rarely  found, 
That  in  domestic  good  combines : 
Happy  that  house !  his  way  to  peace  is  smooth : 
But  virtue  which  breaks  through  all  opposition, 
And  all  temptation  can  Remove, 
Most  shines  and  most  is  acceptable  above. 

Therefore  God's  universal  law 
Gave  to  the  man  despotic  power 
Over  his  female  in  due  awe, 
Nor  from  that  right  to  part  an  hour, 
Smile  she  or  lower : 
So  shall  he  least  confusion  draw 
On  his  whole  life,  not  sway'd 
By  female  usurpation,  or  dismay'd. 

But  had  we  best  retire  ?  I  see  a  storm. 

SAMSON". 

Fair  days  have  oft  contracted  wind  and  rain. 

CHOKUS. 
But  this  another  kind  of  tempest  brings. 

SAMSON. 
Be  less  abstruse,  my  riddling  days  are  past. 

CHOETTS. 

Look  now  for  no  enchanting  voice,  nor  fear 


SAMSON    AGONISTES.  389 

The  bait  of  honey 'd  words :  a  rougher  tongue 

Draws  hitherward ;  I  know  him  by  his  stride, 

The  giant  Harapha  of  Gath,  his  look 

Haughty  as  is  his  pile  high-built  and  proud. 

Comes  he  in  peace?    What  wind  hath  blown  him  hithei 

I  less  conjecture  than  when  first  I  saw 

The  sumptuous  Dalila  floating  this  way : 

His  habit  carries  peace,  his  brow  defiance. 

SAMSON. 
Or  peace  or  not,  alike  to  me  he  comes. 

CHOEUS. 
His  fraught  we  soon  shall  know,  he  now  arrives. 

HABAPHA. 

I  come  not,  Samson,  to  condole  thy  chance, 
As  these  perhaps,  yet  wish  it  had  not  been, 
Though  for  no  friendly  intent.     I  am  of  Gath  ; 
Men  call  me  Harapha,  of  stock  renown'd 
As  Og  or  Anak  and  the  Emims  old 
That  Kiriathaim  held :  thou  know'st  me  now. 
If  thou  at  all  art  known.    Much  I  have  heard 
Of  thy  prodigious  might  and  feats  perform'd, 
Incredible  to  me ;  in  this  displeased, 
That  I  was  never  present  on  the  place 
Of  those  encounters,  where  we  might  have  tried 
Each  other's  force  in  camp  or  listed  field ; 
And. now  am  come  to  see  of  whom  such  noise 
Hath  walk'd  about,  and  each  limb  to  survey, 
If  thy  appearance  answer  loud  report. 

SAMSON. 
The  way  to  know  were  not  to  see,  but  taste. 

HAEAPHA.      | 

Dost  thou  already  single  me  ?    I  thought 
Gyves  and  the  mill  had  tamed  thee.     0  that  fortune 
Had  brought  me  to  the  field,  where  thou  art  famed 
To  have  wrought  such  wonders  with  an  ass's  jaw ! 
I  should  have  forced  thee  soon  with  other  arms, 
Or  left  thy  carcass  where  the  ass  lay  thrown : 
So  had  the  glory  of  prowess  been  recovered 


390  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

To  Palestine,  won  by  a  Philistine 
From  the  unforeskinn'd  race,  of  whom  thou  bear'st 
The  highest  name  for  valiant  acts ;  that  honor 
Certain  to  have  won  by  mortal  duel  from  thee, 
I  lose,  prevented  by  thy  eyes  put  out. 

SAMSON. 

Boast  not  of  what  thou  wouldst  have  done,  but  do 
What  then  thou  wouldst ;  thou  seest  it  in  thy  hand. 

HARAPHA. 

To  combat  with  a  blind  man  I  disdain, 
And  thou  hast  need  much  washing  to  be  touched. 

SAMSON. 

Such  usage  as  your  honorable  lords 
Afford  me,  assassinated  and  betray'd, 
Who  durst  not,  with  their  whole  united  powers, 
In  fight  withstand  me  single  and  unarm'd  ; 
Kor  in  the  house  with  chamber  ambushes 
Close-banded  durst  attack  me,  no,  not  sleeping, 
Till  they  had  hired  a  woman  with  their  gold, 
Breaking  her  marriage  faith  to  circumvent  me. 
Therefore,  without  feign'd  shifts,  let  be  assigned 
Some  narrow  place  inclosed,  where  sight  may  give  thee 
Or  rather  flight,  no  great  advantage  on  me : 
Then  put  on  all  thy  gorgeous  arms,  thy  helmet 
And  brigandine  of  brass,  thy  broad  habergeon, 
Vant-brass  and  greaves,  and  gauntlet,  add  thy  spear, 
A  weaver's  beam,  and  seven-times-folded  shield  ; 
I  only  with  an  oaken  staff  will  meet  thee, 
And  raise  such  outcries  on  thy  clatter'd  iron, 
Which  long  shall  not  withhold  me  from  thy  head, 
•   That  in  a  little  time  while  breath  remains  thee, 
Thou  oft  shalt  wish  thyself  at  Gath,  to  boast 
Again  in  safety  wh£t  thou  wouldst  have  done 
To  Samson,  but  shalt  never  see  Gath  more. 

HARAPHA. 

Thou  durst  not  thus  disparage  glorious  arms, 
Which  greatest  heroes  have  in  battle  worn, 
Their  ornament  and  safety,  had  not  spells 
And  black  enchantments,  some  magician's  art, 


SAMSON    AGOXISTES.  391 

Arm'd  thee  or  charm'd  thee  strong,  which  thou  from 

Heaven 

Feign'dst  at  thy  birth  was  given  thee  in  thy  hair, 
Where  strength  can  least  abide,  though  all  thy  hairs 
Were  bristles,  ranged  like  those  that  ridge  the  back 
Of  chafed  wild  boars,  or  ruffled  porcupines. 

SAMSON. 

I  know  no  spells,  use  no  forbidden  arts ; 
My  trust  is  in  the  living  God,  who  gave  me 
At  ray  nativity  this  strength,  diffused 
No  less  through  all  my  sinews,  joints,  and  bones, 
Than  thine,  while  I  preserved  these  locks  unshorn, 
The  pledge  of  my  unviolated  vow. 
For  proof  hereof,  if  Dagon  be  thy  god, 
Go  to  his  temple,  invocate  his  aid 
"With  solemnest  devotion,  spread  before  him 
How  highly  it  concerns  his  glory  now 
To  frustrate  and  dissolve  these  magic  spells, 
Which  I  to  be  the  power  of  Israel's  God 
Avow,  and  challenge  Dagon  to  the  test, 
Offering  to  combat  thee  his  champion  bold, 
With  the  utmost  of  his  godhead  seconded : 
Then  thou  shalt  see,  or  rather  to  thy  sorrow 
Soon  feel,  whose  God  is  strongest,  thine  or  mine. 

IIARAPHA. 

Presume  not  on  thy  God,  whate'er  Re  be, 
Thee  he  regards  not,  owns  not,  hath  cut  off 
Quite  from  his  people,  and  delivered  up 
Into  thy  enemies'  hand,  permitted  them 
To  put  out  both  thine  eyes,  and,  fetter'd,  send  thee 
Into  the  common  prison,  there  to  grind 
Among  the  slaves  and  asses,  thy  comrades, 
As  good  for  nothing  else,  no  better  service 
With  those  thy  boisterous  locks,  no  worthy  match 
For  valor  to  assail,  nor  by  the  sword 
Of  noble  warrior,  so  to  stain  his  honor, 
But  by  the  barber's  razor  best  subdued. 

SAMSOX. 

All  these  Indignities,  for  such  they  are 
From  thine,  these  evils  I  deserve,  and  more, 


392  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Acknowledge  them  from  God  inflicted  on  me 
Justly,  yet  despair  not  of  his  final  pardon 
"Whose  ear  is  ever  open,  and  his  eye 
Gracious  to  readmit  the  suppliant ; 
In  confidence  whereof  I  once  again 
Defy  thee  to  the  trial  of  mortal  fight, 
By  combat  to  decide  whose  God  is  God, 
Thine,  or  whom  I  with  Israel's  sons  adore. 

HAEAPHA. 

Fair  honor  that  thou  dost  thy  God,  in  trusting 
He  will  accept  thee  to  defend  his  cause, 
A  murderer,  a  revolter,  and  a  robber. 

SAMSON. 
Tongue-doughty  giant,  how  dost  thou  prove  me  these 

HAEAPHA. 

Is  not  thy  nation  subject  to  our  lords? 
Their  magistrates  confess'd  it,  when  they  took  thee 
As  a  league-breaker,  and  delivered  bound 
Into  our  hands :  for  hadst  thou  not  committed 
Notorious  murder  on  those  thirty  men 
At  Ascalon,  who  never  did  thee  harm, 
Then,  like  a  robber,  stripp'dst  them  of  their  robes  ? 
The  Philistines,  when  thou  hadst  broke  the  league, 
"Went  up  with  armed  powers  thee  only  seeking, 
To  others  did  no  violence  nor  spoil. 

SAMSOX. 

Among  the  daughters  of  the  Philistines 
I  chose  a  wife,  which  argued  me  no  foe ; 
And  in  your  city  held  my  nuptial  feast  : 
But  your  ill-meaning  politician  lords, 
Under  pretence  of  bridal  friends  and  guests, 
Appointed  to  await  me  thirty  spies, 
Who,  threatening  cruel  death,  constraint  the  bride 
To  wring  from  me  and  tell  to  them  my  secret, 
That  solved  the  riddle  which  I  had  proposed. 
When  I  perceived  all  set  on  enmity, 
As  on  my  enemies,  wherever  chanced, 
I  used  hostility,  and  took  their  spoil 
To  pay  my  underminers  in  their  coin. 
My  nation  was  subjected  to  your  lords : 


SAMSON    AGONISTES.  393 

It  was  the  force  of  conquest ;  force  with  force 

Is  well  ejected  when  the  conquer'd  can. 

But  I,  a  private  person,  whom  my  country 

As  a  league-breaker  gave  up  hound,  presumed 

Single  rebellion,  and  did  hostile  acts. 

I  was  no  private,  but  a  person  raised 

With  strength  sufficient  and  command  from  Heaven 

To  free  my  country :  if  their  servile  minds 

Me  their  deliverer  sent  would  not  receive, 

But  to  their  masters  gave  me  up  for  naught, 

The  unworthier  they ;  whence  to  this  day  they  serve. 

I  was  to  do  my  part  from  Heaven  assigned, 

And  had  perform'd  it,  if  my  known  offence 

Had  not  disabled  me,  not  all  your  force : 

These  shifts  refuted,  answer  thy  appellant 

Though  by  his  blindness  maim'd  for  high  attempts, 

"Who  now  defies  thee  thrice  to  single  fight, 

As  a  petty  enterprise  of  small  enforce. 

HAEAPHA. 

With  thee,  a  man  condemned,  a  slave  enrolled, 
Due  by  the  law  to  capital  punishment  ? 
To  fight  with  thee  no  man  of  arms  will  deign. 

SAMSON". 

Cam'st  thou  for  this,  vain  boaster,  to  survey  me, 
To  descant  on  my  strength,  and  give  thy  verdict  ? 
Come  nearer,  part  not  hence  so  slight  informed ; 
But  take  good  heed  my  hand  survey  not  thee. 

HAEAPHA. 

O  Baal-zebub !  can  my  ears  unused 
Hear  these  dishonors,  and  not  render  death  ? 

SAMSON. 

No  man  withholds  thee,  nothing  from  thy  hand 
Fear  I  incurable  ;  bring  up  thy  van, 
My  heels  are  fettered,  but  my  fist  is  free. 

HAEAPHA. 

This  insolence  other  kind  of  answer  fits. 

SAMSON. 
Go,  baffled  coward,  lest  I  run  upon  thee, 


394  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Though  in  these  chains,  bulk  without  spirit  vast. 
And  with  one  buffet  lay  thy  structure  low, 
Or  swing  thee  in  the  air,  then  dash  thee  down 
To  the  hazard  of  thy  brains  and  shattered  sides. 

HAEAPHA. 

By  Astaroth !  ere  long  thou  shalt  lament 
These  braveries  in  irons  loaden  on  thee. 

CHOBUS. 

His  giantship  is  gone  somewhat  crest-fallen, 
Stalking  with  less  unconscionable  strides, 
And  lower  looks,  but  in  a  sultry  chafe. 

SAMSON. 

I  dread  him  not,  nor  all  his  giant-brood, 
Though  fame  divulge  him  father  of  five  sons, 
All  of  gigantic  size,  Goliah  chief. 

CHOEUS. 

He  will  directly  to  the  lords,  I  fear, 
And  with  malicious  counsel  stir  them  up 
Some  way  or  other  yet  further  to  afflict  thee. 

SAMSON. 

He  must  allege  some  cause,  and  offered  fight 
Will  not  dare  mention,  lest  a  question  rise 
"Whether  he  durst  accept  the  offer  or  not, 
And  that  he  durst  not,  plain  enough  appeared. 
Much  more  affliction  than  already  felt 
They  cannot  well  impose,  nor  I  sustain ; 
If  they  intend  advantage  of  my  labors, 
The  work  of  many  hands,  which  earns  my  keeping 
With  no  small  profit  daily  to  my  owners. 
But  come  what  will,  my  deadliest  foe  will  piove 
My  speediest  friend,  by  death  to  rid  me  hence,— 
The  worst  that  he  can  give,  to  me  the  best. 
Yet  so  it  may  fall  out,  because  their  end 
Is  hate,  not  help  to  me,  it  may  with  mine 
Draw  their  own  ruin  who  attempt  the  deed. 

CHOEUS. 
Oh,  how  comely  it  is,  and  how  reviving 


SAMSON    AG02USTES.  395 

To  the  spirits  of  just  men  long  oppress'd, 

When  God  into  the  hands  of  their  deliverer 

Puts  invincible  might 

To  quell  the  mighty  of  the  earth,  the  oppressor- 

The  brute  and  boisterous  force  of  violent  men 

Hardy  and  industrious  to  support 

Tyrannic  power,  but  raging  to  pursue 

The  righteous  and  all  such  as  honor  truth ! 

He  all  their  ammunition 

And  feats  of  war  defeats 

With  plain  heroic  magnitude  of  mind 

And  celestial  vigor  arm'd ; 

Their  armories  and  magazines  contemns, 

Renders  them  useless  ;  while 

With  winged  expedition, 

Swift  as  the  lightning  glance,  he  executes 

His  errand  on  the  wicked,  who,  surprised. 

Lose  their  defence,  distracted  and  amazed. 

But  patience  is  more  oft  the  exercise 
Of  saints,  the  trial  of  their  fortitude, 
Making  them  each  his  own  deliverer, 
And  victor  over  all 
That  tyranny  or  fortune  can  inflict. 
Either  of  these  is  in  thy  lot, 
Samson,  with  might  endued 
Above  the  sons  of  men ;  but  sight  bereaved 
May  chance  to  number  thee  with  those 
Whom  patience  finally  must  crown. 

This  idol's  day  hath  been  to  thee  no  day  of  rest, 
Laboring  thy  mind 

More  than  the  working  day  thy  hands. 
And  yet  perhaps  more  trouble  is  behind, 
For  I  descry  this  way 
Some  other  tending ;  in  his  hand 
A  sceptre  or  quaint  staff  he  bears, 
Comes  on  amain,  speed  in  his  look. 
By  his  habit  I  discern  him  now 
A  public  officer,  and  now  at  hand. 
Hi&  message  will  be  short  and  voluble. 

OFFICER. 

Hebrews,  the  prisoner  Samson  here  I  seek. 


390  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

CHORUS. 
His  manacles  remark  him,  there  he  sits. 

OFFICER. 

Samson,  to  thee  our  lords  thus  bid  me  say : 
This  day  to  Dagon  is  a  solemn  feast, 
With  sacrifices,  triumph,  pomp,  and  games ; 
Thy  strength  they  know  surpassing  human  rate, 
And  now  some  public  proof  thereof  require 
To  honor  this  great  feast,  and  great  assembly ; 
Rise  therefore  with  all  speed  and  come  along, 
Where  I  will  see  thee  hearten'd  and  fresh  clad, 
To  appear  as  fits  before  the  illustrious  lords. 

SAMSON. 

Thou  know'st  I  am  an  Hebrew,  therefore  tell  them, 
Our  law  forbids  at  their  religious  rites 
My  presence ;  for  that  cause  I  cannot  come. 

OFFICER. 

This  answer,  be  assured,  will  not  content  them. 
SAMSON. 

Have  they  not  sword-players,  and  every  sort 
Of  gymnic  artists,  wrestlers,  riders,  runners, 
Jugglers  and  dancers,  antics,  mummers,  mimics, 
But  they  must  pick  me  out  with  shackles  tired, 
And  over-labor'd  at  their  public  mill, 
To  make  them  sport  with  blind  activity  ? 
Do  they  not  seek  occasion  of  new  quarrels 
On  my  refusal  to  distress  me  more, 
Or  make  a  game  of  my  calamities  ? 
Return  the  way  thou  cam'st,  I  will  not  come. 

OFFICER. 

Regard  thyself:  this  will  offend  them  highly. 
SAMSON. 

Myself?  my  conscience  and  internal  peace. 
Can  they  think  me  so  broken,  so  debased 
With  corporal  servitude,  that  my  mind  ever 
Will  condescend  to  such  absurd  commands  ? 
Although  their  drudge,  to  be  their  fool  or  jester, 


SAMSON    AGONISTES.  397 

And  in  my  midst  of  sorrow  and  heart-grief 
To  show  them  feasts,  and  play  before  their  god, 
The  worst  of  all  indignities,  yet  on  me 
Join'd  with  extreme  contempt  ?    I  will  not  come. 

OFFICEE. 

My  message  was  imposed  on  me  with  speed, 
Brooks  no  delay :  is  this  thy  resolution  ? 

SAMSON. 
So  take  it  with  what  speed  thy  message  needs. 

OFFIOEE. 

I  am  sorry  what  this  stoutness  will  produce. 

SAMSON. 

Perhaps  thou  shalt  have  cause  to  sorrow  indeed* 

CHOEUS. 

Consider,  Samson ;  matters  now  are  strain'd 
Up  to  the  height,  whether  to  hold  or  break ; 
He's  gone,  and  who  knows  how  he  may  report 
Thy  words  by  adding  fuel  to  the  flame  ? 
Expect  another  message  more  imperious, 
More  lordly  thundering  than  thou  well  wilt  bear. 

SAMSON. 

Shall  I  abuse  this  consecrated  gift 
Of  strength,  again  returning  with  my  hair 
After  my  great  transgression,  so  requite 
Favor  renewed,  and  add  a  greater  sin 
By  prostituting  holy  things  to  idols ; 
A  Nazarite  in  place  abominable 
Vaunting  my  strength  in  honor  to  their  Dagon  ? 
Besides  how  vile,  contemptible,  ridiculous, 
What  act  more  execrably  unclean,  profane? 

CHOEUS. 

Yet  with  this  strength  thou  serv'st  the  Philistines, 
Idolatrous,  uncircumcised,  unclean. 

34 


398  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 


SAMSON. 

Not  in  their  idol- worship,  but  by  labor 
Honest  and  lawful  to  deserve  my  food 
Of  those  who  have  me  in  their  civil  power. 

OHOETJS. 
"Where  the  heart  joins  not,  outward  acts  defile  not. 

SAMSON. 

"Where  outward  force  constrains,  the  sentence  holds, 
But  who  constrains  me  to  the  temple  of  Dagon, 
Not  dragging  ?    The  Philistian  lords  command. 
Commands  are  no  restraints.    If  I  obey  them, 
I  do  it  freely,  venturing  to  displease 
God  for  the  fear  of  man,  and  man  prefer, 
Set  God  behind :  which  in  his  jealousy 
Shall  never,  unrepented,  find  forgiveness. 
Yet  that  he  may  dispense  with  me  or  thee 
Present  in  temples  at  idolatrous  rites 
For  some  important  cause,  thou  need'st  not  doubt. 

CHOEUS. 
How  thou  wilt  here  come  off  surmounts  my  reach. 

SAMSON. 

Be  of  good  courage,  I  begin  to  feel 
Some  rousing  motions  in  me  which  dispose 
To  something  extraordinary  my  thoughts. 
I  with  this  messenger  will  go  along, 
Nothing  to  do,  be  sure,  that  may  dishonor 
Our  law,  or  stain  my  vow  of  Nazarite. 
If  there  be  aught  of  presage  in  the  mind, 
This  day  will  be  remarkable  in  my  life 
By  some  great  act,  or  of  my  days  the  last. 

CHORUS. 

In  time  thou  hast  resolved,  the  man  returns. 
OFFICER. 

Samson,  this  second  message  from  our  lords 
To  thee  I  am  bid  say.    Art  thou  our  slave, 
Our  captive,  at  the  public  mill  our  drudge, 


SAMSON    AGONISTES.  399 

• 

And  dar'st  them  at  our  sending  and  command 
Dispute  thy  coming?     Come  without  delay ; 
Or  we  shall  find  such  engines  to  assail 
And  hamper  thee,  as  thou  shalt  come  of  force, 
Though  thou  wert  firmlier  fasten'd  than  a  rock. 

SAMSON. 

I  could  be  well  content  to  try  their  art, 
Which  to  no  few  of  them  would  prove  pernicious. 
Yet  knowing  their  advantages  too  many, 
Because  they  shall  not  trail  me  through  their  streets 
Like  a  wild  beast,  I  am  content  to  go. 
Masters'  commands  come  with  a  power  resistless 
To  such  as  owe  them  absolute  subjection ; 
And  for  a  life  who  will  not  change  his  purpose  ? 
(So  mutable  are  all  the  ways  of  men  :) 
Yet  this  be  sure,  in  nothing  to  comply 
Scandalous  or  forbidden  in  our  law. 

OFFICER. 

I  praise  thy  resolution :  doff  these  links. 
By  this  compliance  thou  wilt  win  the  lords 
To  favor,  and  perhaps  to  set  thee  free. 

SAMSON. 

Brethren,  farewell ;  your  company  along 
I  will  not  wish,  lest  it  perhaps  offend  them 
To  see  me  girt  with  friends ;  and  how  the  sight 
Of  me  as  of  a  common  enemy, 
So  dreaded  once,  may  now  exasperate  them, 
I  know  not.   Lords  are  lordliest  in  their  wine ; 
And  the  well-feasted  priest  then  soonest  fired 
With  zeal,  if  aught  religion  seem  concerned ; 
No  less  the  people  on  their  holydays 
Impetuous,  insolent,  unquenchable : 
Happen  what  may,  of  me  expect  to  hear 
Nothing  dishonorable,  impure,  unworthy 
Our  God,  our  law,  my  nation,  or  myself; 
The  last  of  me  or  no  I  cannot  warrant. 


CHOEUS. 


Go,  and  the  Holy  One 
Of  Israel  be  thy  guide 


400  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

• 

To  what  may  serve  his  glory  best,  and  spread  his  name 

Great  among  the  heathen  round ; 

Send  thee  the  angel  of  thy  birth,  to  stand 

Fast  by  thy  side,  who  from  thy  father's  field 

Rede  up  in  flames  after  his  message  told 

Of  thy  conception,  and  be  now  a  shield 

Of  fire ;  that  Spirit  that  first  rush'd  on  thee 

In  the  camp  of  Dan 

Be  efficacious  in  thee  now  at  need. 

For  never  was  from  Heaven  imparted 

Measure  of  strength  so  great  to  mortal  seed, 

As  in  thy  wondrous  actions  hath  been  seen. 

But  wherefore  comes  old  Manoah  in  such  haste 

With  youthful  steps  ?  much  livelier  than  erewhile 

He  seems :  supposing  here  to  find  his  son, 

Or  of  him  bringing  to  us  some  glad  news  ? 

MANOAH. 

Peace  with  you,  brethren ;  my  inducement  hither 
"Was  not  at  present  here  to  find  my  son, 
By  order  of  the  lords  new  parted  hence 
To  come  and  play  before  them  at  their  feast. 
I  heard  all  as  I  came,  the  city  rings, 
And  numbers  thither  flock ;  I  had  no  will, 
Lest  I  should  see  him  forced  to  things  unseemly. 
But  that  which  moved  my  coming  now,  was  chiefly 
To  give  ye  part  with  me  what  hope  I  have 
With  good  success  to  work  his  liberty. 

OHOEUS. 

That  hope  would  much  rejoice  ns  to  partake 
With  thee ;  say,  reverend  sire,  we  thirst  to  hear. 

MANOAH. 

I  have  attempted  one  by  one  the  lords, 
Either  at  home  or  through  the  high  street  passing, 
With  supplication  prone  and  father's  tears, 
To  accept  of  ransom  for  my  son  their  prisoner. 
Some  much  averse  I  found  and  wondrous  harsh, 
Contemptuous,  proud,  set  on  revenge  and  spite ; 
That  part  most  reverenced  Dagon  and  his  priests : 
Others  more  moderate  seeming,  but  their  aim 
Private  reward,  for  which  both  God  and  state 


SAMSON    AGOXISTES.  401 

They  easily  would  set  to  sale :  a  third 

More  generous  far  and  civil,  who  confess'd 

They  had  enough  revenged,  having  reduced 

Their  foe  to  misery  beneath  their  fears, 

The  rest  was  magnanimity  to  remit, 

If  some  convenient  ransom  were  proposed. 

— What  noise  or  shout  was  that  ?  it  tore  the  sky. 

CHORUS. 

Doubtless  the  people  shouting  to  behold 
Their  once  great  dread,  captive  and  blind  before  them, 
Or  at  some  proof  of  strength  before  them  shown. 

MANOAH. 

His  ransom,  if  my  whole  inheritance 
May  compass  it,  shall  willingly  be  paid 
And  numbered  down :  much  rather  I  shall  choose 
To  live  the  poorest  in  my  tribe,  than  richest, 
And  he  in  that  calamitous  prison  left. 
No,  I  am  fix'd  not  to  part  hence  without  him. 
For  his  redemption  all  my  patrimony, 
If  need  be,  I  am  ready  to  forego 
And  quit :  not  wanting  him,  I  shall  want  nothing. 

OHOETJS. 

Fathers  are  wont  to  lay  up  for  their  sons, 
Thou  for  thy  son  art  bent  to  lay  out  all : 
Sons  wont  to  nurse  their  parents  in  old  age, 
Thou  in  old  age  car'st  how  to  nurse  thy  son, 
Made  older  than  thy  age  through  eyesight  lost. 

MANOAH. 

It  shall  be  my  delight  to  tend  his  eyes, 
And  view  him  sitting  in  the  house,  ennobled 
With  all  those  high  exploits  by  him  achieved, 
And  on  his  shoulders  waving  down  those  locks, 
That  of  a  nation  arm'd  the  strength  contain'd : 
And  I  persuade  me  God  had  not  permitted 
His  strength  again  to  grow  up  with  his  hair 
Garrison'd  round  about  him  like  a  camp 
Of  faithful  soldiery,  were  not  his  purpose 
To  use  him  further  yet  in  some  great  service, 
Not  to  sit  idle  with  so  great  a  gift 


402  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

1  ess,  and  thence  ridiculous  about  him. 
And  since  his  strength  with  eyesight  was  not  lost, 
God  will  restore  him  eyesight  to  his  strength. 

CHORUS. 

Thy  hopes  are  not  ill-founded,  nor  seem  vain 
Of  his  delivery,  and  thy  joy  thereon 
Conceived,  agreeable  to  a  father's  love, 
In  both  which  we,  as  next,  participate. 

MANOAH. 

I  know  your  friendly  minds,  and — Oh,  what  noise  I 
Mercy  of  Heaven,  what  hideous  noise  was  that  ? 
Horribly  loud,  unlike  the  former  shout. 

CHORUS. 

Noise  call  you  it,  or  universal  groan, 
As  if  the  whole  inhabitation  perish'd ! 
Blood,  death,  and  deathful  deeds  are  in  that  noise. 
Knin,  destruction  at  the  utmost  point. 

MANOAH. 

Of  ruin,  indeed,  methought  I  heard  the  noise : 
Oh !  it  continues ;  they  have  slain  my  son ! 

CHORUS. 

Thy  son  is  rather  slaying  them  ;  that  outcry 
From  slaughter  of  one  foe  could  not  ascend. 

MANOAH. 

Some  dismal  accident  it  needs  must  be : 
What  shall  we  do,  stay  here  or  run  and  see  ? 

CHORUS. 

Best  keep  together  here,  lest  running  thithei 
We  unawares  run  into  danger's  mouth. 
This  evil  on  the  Philistines  is  fallen ; 
From  whom  could  else  a  general  cry  be  heard  ? 
The  sufferers  then  will  scarce  molest  us  here, 
From  other  hands  we  need  not  much  to  fear. 
What  if  his  eyesight  (for  to  Israel's  God 
Nothing  is  hard)  by  miracle  restored, 
He  now  be  dealing  dole  among  his  foes, 
And  over  heaps  of  slaughter'd  walk  his  way  ? 


SAMSON    AGONTSTES.  403 

MANOAH. 

That  were  a  joy  presumptuous  to  be  thought. 

CHOKTTS. 

Yet  God  hath  wrought  things  as  incredible 
For  his  people  of  old ;  what  hinders  now  ? 

MANOAH. 

He  can,  I  know,  but  doubt  to  think  he  will ; 
Yet  hope  would  fain  subscribe,  and  tempts  belief. 
A  little  stay  will  bring  some  notice  hither. 

CHOETJS. 

Of  good  or  bad  so  great,  of  bad  the  sooner ; 
For  evil  news  rides  post,  while  good  news  baits. 
And  to  our  wish  I  see  one  hither  speeding, 
An  Hebrew,  as  I  guess,  and  of  our  tribe. 

MESSENGER. 

O  whither  shall  I  run,  or  which  way  fly 
The  sight  of  this  so  horrid  spectacle, 
"Which  erst  my  eyes  beheld  and  yet  behold  ? 
For  dire  imagination  still  pursues  me. 
But  providence  or  instinct  of  nature  seems, 
Or  reason  though  disturbed,  and  scarce  consulted, 
To  have  guided  me  aright,  I  know  not  how, 
To  thee  first,  reverend  Manoah,  and  to  these 
My  countrymen,  whom  here  I  knew  remaining 
As  at  some  distance  from  the  place  of  horror, 
So  in  the  sad  event  too  much  concern'd. 

MANOAH. 

The  accident  was  loud,  and  here  before  thee 
With  rueful  cry,  yet  what  it  was  we  hear  not ; 
No  preface  needs,  thou  seest  we  long  to  know. 

MESSENGER. 

It  would  burst  forth,  but  I  recover  breath 
And  sense  distract,  to  know  well  what  I  utter. 

MANOAH. 

Tell  us  the  sim ;  the  circumstance  defer. 


404  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

MESSENGER. 

Gaza  yet  stands,  but  all  her  sons  are  fallen, 
All  in  a  moment  overwhelmed  and  fallen. 

MANOAH. 

Sad,  but  thou  know'st  to  Israelites  not  saddest 
The  desolation  of  a  hostile  city. 

MESSENGER. 

Feed  on  that  first ;  there  may  be  grief  in  surfeit 

MANOAH. 

Relate  by  whom. 

MESSENGER. 

By  Samson. 

MANOAH. 

That  still  lessens 
The  sorrow,  and  converts  it  nigh  to  joy. 

MESSENGER. 

Ah,  Manoah !  I  refrain,  too  suddenly 
To  utter  what  will  come  at  last  too  soon ; 
Lest  evil  tidings  with  too  rude  irruption 
Hitting  thy  aged  ear  should  pierce  too  deep. 

MANOAH. 

Suspense  in  news  is  torture ;  speak  them  out. 

MESSENGER. 

Take  then  the  worst  in  brief— Samson  is  dead ! 

MANOAH. 

The  worst  indeed.    Oh,  all  my  hope's  defeated 
To  free  him  hence  I  but  death,  who  sets  all  free, 
Hath  paid  his  ransom  now  and  full  discharge. 
What  windy  joy  this  day  had  I  conceived 
Hopeful  of  his  delivery,  which  now  proves 
Abortive  as  the  first-born  bloom  of  spring 
Nipt  with  the  lagging  rear  of  winter's  frost ! 
Yet  ere  I  give  the  reins  to  grief,  say  first, 


SAMSON   AGONISTES.  405 

How  died  he?  death  to  life  is  crown  or  shame. 
All  by  him  fell,  thou  say'st ;  by  whom  fell  he  ? 
"What  glorious  hand  gave  Samson  his  death's  wound 

MESSENGER. 

Un wounded  of  his  enemies  he  fell. 

MANOAH. 

Wearied  with  slaughter  then,  or  how  ?  explain. 

MESSENGER. 

By  his  own  hands. 

MANOAH. 

Self-violence  ?  "What  cause 
Brought  him  so  soon  at  variance  with  himself 
Among  his  foes  ? 

MESSENGER. 

Inevitable  cause 

At  once  both  to  destroy  and  be  destroy'd ; 
The  edifice,  where  all  were  met  to  see  him, 
Upon  their  heads  and  on  his  own  he  pull'd. 

MANOAH. 

O  lastly  over-strong  against  thyself ! 
A  dreadful  way  thou  took'st  to  thy  revenge. 
More  than  enough  we  know ;  but  while  things  yet 
Are  in  confusion,  give  us,  if  thou  canst, 
Eye-witness  of  what  first  or  last  was  done, 
Relation  more  particular  and  distinct. 

MESSENGER. 

Occasions  drew  me  early  to  this  city, 
And  as  the  gates  I  enter'd  with  sunrise, 
The  morning  trumpets  festival  proclaimed 
Through  each  high  street :  little  I  had  dispatch'd, 
"When  all  abroad  was  rumor' d  that  this  day 
Samson  should  be  brought  forth,  to  show  the  people 
Proof  of  his  mighty  strength  in  feats  and  games : 
I  sorrowed  at  his  captive  state,  but  minded 
Not  to  be  absent  at  that  spectacle. 
The  building  was  a  spacious  theatre, 


406  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Half-round,  on  two  main  pillars  vaulted  high, 

With  seats  where  all  the  lords  and  each  degree 

Of  sort,  might  sit  in  order  to  behold  ; 

The  other  side  was  open,  where  the  throng 

On  hanks  and  scaffolds  under  sky  might  stand ; 

I  among  these  aloof  obscurely  stood. 

The  feast  and  noon  grew  high,  and  sacrifice 

Had  fill'd  their  hearts  with  mirth,  high  cheer,  and  wine. 

When  to  their  sports  they  turn'd.    Immediately 

Was  Samson  as  a  public  servant  brought, 

In  their  state  livery  clad :  before  him  pipes 

And  timbrels ;   on  each  side  went  armed  guards, 

Both  horse  and  foot ;  before  him  and  behind, 

Archers  and  slingers,  cataphracts  and  spears. 

At  sight  of  him  the  people  with  a  shout 

Rifted  the. air,  clamoring  their  god  with  praise, 

Who  had  made  their  dreadful  enemy  their  thrall. 

He,  patient  but  undaunted  where  they  led  him, 

Came  to  the  place,  and  what  was  set  before  him, 

"Which  without  help  of  eye  might  be  assay'd, 

To  heave,  pull,  draw,  or  break,  he  still  perform' d 

All  with  incredible,  stupendous  force, 

None  daring  to  appear  antagonist. 

At  length  for  intermission  sake  they  led  him 

Between  the  pillars ;  he  his  guide  requested, 

(For  so  from  such  as  nearer  stood  we  heard,) 

As  over-tired  to  let  him  lean  a  while 

With  both  his  arms  on  those  two  massy  pillars, 

That  to  the  arched  roof  gave  main  support. 

He,  unsuspicious,  led  him ;  which  when  Samson 

Felt  in  his  arms,  with  head  a  while  inclined 

And  eyes  fast  fix'd  he  stood,  as  one  who  pray'd 

Or  some  great  matter  in  his  mind  revolved : 

At  last  with  head  erect  thus  cried  aloud : 

"  Hitherto,  lords,  what  your  commands  imposed 

I  have  performed,  as  reason  was,  obeying, 

Not  without  wonder  or  delight  beheld : 

Now  of  my  own  accord  such  other  trial 

I  mean  to  show  you  of  my  strength,  yet  greater, 

As  with  amaze  shall  strike  all  who  behold." 

This  utter'd,  straining  all  his  nerves  he  bow'd : 

As  with  the  force  of  winds  and  waters  pent, 

When  mountains  tremble,  those  two  massy  pillars 


SAMSON    AGOXISTES.  407 

With  horrible  convulsion  to  and  fro, 

He  tugg-d,  he  shook,  till  down  they  came  and  drew 

The  whole  roof  after  them,  with  burst  of  thunder, 

Upon  the  heads  of  all  who  sat  beneath, 

Lords,  ladies,  captains,  counsellors,  or  priests, 

Their  choice  nobility  and  flower,  not  only 

Of  this  but  each  Philistian  city  round 

Met  from  all  parts  to  solemnize  this  feast. 

Samson  with  these  immix'd,  inevitably 

Pull'd  down  the  same  destruction  on  himself ; 

The  vulgar  only  'scaped  who  stood  without. 

CHORUS. 

O  dearly  bought  revenge,  yet  glorious ! 
Living  or  dying  thou  hast  fulfill'd 
The  work  for  which  thou  wast  foretold 
To  Israel,  and  now  liest  victorious 
Among  thy  slain,  self-kill'd, 
Not  willingly,  but  tangled  in  the  fold 
Of  dire  necessity,  whose  law  in  death  conjoin'd 
Thee  with  thy  slaughtered  foes  in  number  more 
Than  all  thy  life  had  slain  before. 

SEMIOHOEUS. 

"While  their  hearts  were  jocund  and  sublime, 
Drunk  with  idolatry,  drunk  with  wine, 
And  fat  regorged  of  bulls  and  goats, 
Chanting  their  idol,  and  preferring 
Before  our  living  Dread  who  dwells 
In  Silo,  his  bright  sanctuary ; 
Among  them  he  a  spirit  of  phrensy  sent, 
"Who  hurt  their  minds, 
And  urged  them  on  with  mad  desire 
To  call  in  haste  for  their  destroyer ; 
They,  only  set  on  sport  and  play, 
Unweetingly  importuned 

Their  own  destruction  to  come  speedy  upon  them. 
So  fond  are  mortal  men, 
Fallen  into  wrath  divine, 
As  their  own  ruin  on  themselves  to  invite, 
Insensate  left,  or  to  sense  reprobate,    • 
And  with  blindness  internal  struck. 


408  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 


SEMICHOKTJS. 

But  he,  though  blind  of  sight, 
Despised  and  thought  extinguished  quite, 
With  inward  eyes  illuminated, 
His  fiery  virtue  roused 
From  under  ashes  into  sudden  flame, 
And  as  an  evening  dragon  came, 
Assailant  on  the  perched  roosts, 
And  nests  in  order  ranged 
Of  tame  villatic  fowl ;  but  as  an  eagle 
His  cloudless  thunder  bolted  on  their  heads. 
So  virtue  given  for  lost, 
Depressed,  and  overthrown,  as  seem'd, 
Like  that  self-begotten  bird 
In  the  Arabian  woods  imbost, 
That  no  second  knows  nor  third, 
And  lay  erewhile  a  holocaust, 
From  out  her  ashy  womb  now  teem'd, 
Revives,  reflourishes,  then  vigorous  most 
When  most  inactive  deem'd, 
And  though  her  body  die,  her  fame  survives, 
A  secular  bird,  ages  of  lives. 

MANOAH. 

Come,  come,  no  time  for  lamentation  now, 
Nor  much  more  cause ;  Samson  hath  quit  himself 
Like  Samson,  and  heroicly  hath  finish'd 
A  life  heroic,  on  his  enemies 
Fully  revenged,  hath  left  them  years  of  mourning, 
And  lamentation  to  the  sons  of  Caphtor 
Through  all  Philistian  bounds  ;   to  Israel 
Honor  hath  left,  and  freedom,  let  but  them 
Find  courage  to  lay  hold  on  this  occasion ; 
To  himself  and  father's  house  eternal  fame ; 
And  which  is  best  and  happiest  yet,  all  this 
With  God  not  parted  from  him,  as  was  fear'd, 
But  favoring  and  assisting  to  the  end. 
Nothing  is  here  for  tears,  nothing  to  wail 
Or  knock  the  breast ;  no  weakness,  no  contempt, 
Dispraise,  or  blame ;  nothing  but  well  and  fair. 
And  what  may  quiet  us  in  a  death  so  noble. 
Let  us  go  find  the  body  where  it  lies 


SAMSON    AOONISTES.  409 

Soak'd  in  his  enemies'  blood,  and  from  the  stream, 

"With  lavers  pure  and  cleansing  herbs,  wash  off 

The  clotted  gore.    I  with  what  speed  the  while 

(Gaza  is  not  in  plight  to  say  us  nay) 

Will  send  for  all  my  kindred,  all  my  friends, 

To  fetch  him  hence,  and  solemnly  attend 

"With  silent  obsequy  and  funeral  train 

Home  to  his  father's  house :  there  will  I  build  him 

A  monument,  and  plant  it  round  with  shade 

Of  laurel  ever  green,  and  branching  palm, 

"With  all  his  trophies  hung,  and  acts  enrolPd 

In  copious  legend,  or  sweet  lyric  song. 

Thither  shall  all  the  valiant  youth  resort, 

And  from  his  memory  inflame  their  breasts 

To  matchless  valor,  and  adventures  high : 

The  virgins  also  shall  on  feastful  days 

Visit  his  tomb  with  flowers,  only  bewailing 

His  lot  unfortunate  in  nuptial  choice, 

From  whence  captivity  and  loss  of  eyes. 

CSOKTJS. 

All  is  best,  though  we  offc  doubt, 
What  the  unsearchable  dispose 
Of  highest  wisdom  brings  about, 
And  ever  best  found  in  the  close. 
Oft  he  seems  to  hide  his  face, 
But  unexpectedly  returns, 
And  to  his  faithful  champion  hath  in  place 
Bore  witness  gloriously ;  whence  Gaza  mourns, 
And  all  that  band  them  to  resist 
His  uncontrollable  intent ; 
His  servants  he,  with  new  acquist 
Of  true  experience  from  this  great  event, 
With  peace  and  consolation  hath  dismist, 
And  calm  of  mind,  all  passion  spent. 

35 


POEMS 

ON    SEVEEAL    OCCASIONS, 

COMPOSED  AT  SEVEEAL  TIMES. 


BACCARE  FROXTEM 
OINGITE,   NE  VATI  NOCEAT  MALA  LINGUA  FUTURO. 

Virgil,  Sclog.  7. 


POEMS 
ON  SEVERAL  OCCASIONS. 


I. 

ANNO  ^ETATIS  XVII. 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  FAIR  INFANT,  DYING  OF  A  COUGH. 

O  FAIEEST  flower,  no  sooner  blown  but  blasted, 
Soft  silken  primrose  fading  timelessly, 
Summer's  chief  honor,  if  thou  hadst  outlasted 
Bleak  Winter's  force  that  made  thy  blossom  dry  ! 
For  he,  being  amorous  on  that  lovely  dye 

That  did  thy  cheek  en  vermeil,  thought  to  kiss, 
But  kill'd,  alas !  and  then  bewail'd  his  fatal  bliss. 

For  since  grim  Aquilo,  his  charioteer, 
By  boisterous  rape  the  Athenian  damsel  got, 
He  thought  it  touch'd  his  deity  full  near, 
If  likewise  he  some  fair  one  wedded  not, 
Thereby  to  wipe  away  the  infamous  blot 

Of  long-uncoupled  bed,  and  childless  eld, 
Which  'mongst  the  wanton  gods  a  foul  reproach  was  held, 

So,  mounting  up  in  icy-pearled  car, 
Through  middle  empire  of  the  freezing  air  « 

He  wander'd  long,  till  thee  he  spied  from  far : 
There  ended  was  his  quest,  there  ceased  his  care. 
Down  he  descended  from  his  snow-soft  chair,' 

But  all  unawares  with  his  cold-kind  embrace, 
Unhoused  thy  virgin  soul  from  her  fair  biding  place. 

Yet  art  thou  not  inglorious  in  thy  fate ; 
For  so  Apollo,  with  unweeting  hand, 
Whilome  did  slay  his  dearly-loved  mate, 


414  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Young  Hyacinth,  born  on  Eurotas'  strand, — 
Young  Hyacinth,  the  pride  of  Spartan  land ; 

But  then  transform'd  him  to  a  purple  flower : 
Alack,  that  so  to  change  thee  "Winter  had  no  power ! 

Yet  can  I  not  persuade  me  thou  art  dead, 
Or  that  thy  corse  corrupts  in  earth's  dark  womb, 
Or  that  thy  beauties  lie  in  wormy  bed, 
Hid  from  the  world  in  a  low,  delved  tomb ; 
Could  Heaven  for  pity  thee  so  strictly  doom  ? 
Oh  no !  for  something  in  thy  face  did  shine 
Above  mortality,  that  show'd  thou  wast  divine. 

Eesolve  me  then,  O  soul  most  surely  blest ! 
(If  so  it  be  that  thou  these  plaints  dost  hear,) 
Tell  me,  bright  spirit,  where'er  thou  hoverest, 
"Whether  above  that  high  first-moving  sphere, 
Or  in  the  Elysian  fields,  (if  such  there  were ;) 
Oh  say  me  true,  if  thou  wert  mortal  wight, 
And  why  from  us  so  quickly  thou  didst  take  thy  flight 

Wert  thou  some  star  which  from  the  ruin'd  roof 
Of  shaked  Olympus  by  mischance  didst  fall ; 
"Which  careful  Jove  in  nature's  true  behoof 
Took  up,  and  in  fit  place  did  reinstall  ? 
Or  did  of  late  earth's  sons  besiege  the  wall 

Of  sheeny  Heaven,  and  thou  some  goddess  fled 
Amongst  us  here  below  to  hide  thy  nectar'd  head  ? 

Or  wert  thou  that  just  maid  who  once  before 
Forsook  the  hated  earth,  oh  tell  me  sooth, 
And  cam'st  again  to  visit  us  once  more  ? 
Or  wert  thou  that  sweet  smiling  youth  ? 
Or  that  crown'd  matron  sage,  white-robed  Truth  ? 
.  Or  any  other  of  that  heavenly  brood 
Let  down  in  cloudy  throne  to  do  the  world  some  good 

Or  wert  thou  of  the  golden- winged  host, 
"Who  having  clad  thyself  in  human  weed, 
To  earth  from  thy  prefixed  seat  didst  post, 
And  after  short  abode  fly  back  with  speed, 
As  if  to  show  what  creatures  Heaven  doth  breed, 

Thereby  to  set  the  hearts  of  men  on  fire 
To  scorn  the  sordid  world,  and  unto  Heaven  aspire? 


POEMS    ON    SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  415 

But  oh,  why  didst  thou  not  stay  here  below 
To  bless  us  with  thy  heaven-loved  innocence, 
To  slake  his  wrath  whom  sin  hath  made  our  foe, 
To  turn  swift-rushing  black  perdition  hence, 
Or  drive  away  the  slaughtering  pestilence, 

To  stand  'twixt  us  and  our  deserved  smart  ? 
But  thou  canst  best  perform  that  office  where  thou  art. 

Then  thou,  the  mother  of  so  sweet  a  child, 
Her  false  imagined  loss  cease  to  lament, 
And  wisely  learn  to  curb  thy  sorrows  wild ; 
Think  what  a  present  thou  to  God  hast  sent, 
And  render  him  with  patience  what  he  lent ; 

This  if  thou  do,  he  will  an  offspring  give, 
That  till  the  world's  last  end  shall  make  thy  name  to  live. 


II. 
ANNO  uETATIS  XIX. 

lit  ft  vacation  exercise  in  the  college,  part  Latin,  part  English.    The  Latic 
speeches  ended,  the  English  thus  began.] 

HAIL,  native  language,  that  by  sinews  weak 
Didst  move  my  first  endeavoring  tongue  to  speak, 
And  mad'st  imperfect  words  with  childish  trips, 
Halt  unpronounced,  slide  through  my  infant-lips, 
Driving  dumb  silence  from  the  portal  door, 
Where  he  had  mutely  sat  two  years  before : 
Here  I  salute  thee,  and  thy  pardon  ask, 
That  now  I  use  thee  in  my  latter  task : 
Small  loss  it  is  that  thence  can  come  unto  thee, 
I  know  my  tongue  but  little  grace  can  do  thee : 
Thou  need'st  not  be  ambitious  to  be  first, 
Believe  me  I  have  thither  packed  the  worst ; 
And,  if  it  happen  as  I  did  forecast, 
The  daintiest  dishes  shall  be  served  up  last. 
I  pray  thee  then  deny  me  not  thy  aid 
For  this  same  small  neglect  that  I  have  made  ; 
But  haste  thee  straight  to  do  me  once  a  pleasure, 
And  from  thy  wardrobe  bring  thy  chiefest  treasure, 
Not  those  new-fangled  toys,  and  trimming  slight 
Which  takes  our  late  fantastics  with  delight, 


416  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

But  cull  those  richest  robes  and  gay'st  attire 

Which  deepest  spirits  and  choicest  wits  desire : 

I  have  some  naked  thoughts  that  rove  about, 

And  loudly  knock  to  have  their  passage  out ; 

And  weary  of  their  place,  do  only  stay 

Till  thou  hast  deck'd  them  in  thy  best  array, 

That  so  they  may,  without  suspect  or  fears, 

Fly  swiftly  to  this  fair  assembly's  ears ; 

Yet  I  had  rather,  if  I  were  to  choose, 

Thy  service  in  some  graver  subject  use, 

Such  as  may  make  thee  search  thy  coffers  round, 

Before  thou  clothe  my  fancy  in  fit  sound : 

Such  where  the  deep  transported  mind  may  soar 

Above  the  wheeling  poles,  and  at  Heaven's  door 

Look  in,  and  see  each  blissful  deity 

How  he  before  the  thunderous  throne  doth  lie, 

Listening  to  what  unshorn  Apollo  sings 

To  the  touch  of  golden  wires,  while  Hebe  brings 

Immortal  nectar  to  her  kingly  sire ; 

Then  passing  through  the  spheres  of  watchful  fire, 

And  misty  regions  of  wide  air  next  under, 

And  hills  of  snow,  and  lofts  of  piled  thunder, 

May  tell  at  length  how  green-eyed  Neptune  raves, 

In  Heaven's  defiance  mustering  all  his  waves ; 

Then  sing  of  secret  things  that  came  to  pass 

When  beldame  Nature  in  her  cradle  was ; 

And  last  of  kings,  and  queens,  and  heroes  old, 

Such  as  the  wise  Demodocus  once  told 

In  solemn  songs  at  king  Alcinous'  feast, 

"While  sad  Ulysses'  soul,  and  all  the  rest, 

Are  held  with  his  melodious  harmony 

In  willing  chains  and  sweet  captivity. 

But  fie,  my  wandering  muse,  how  thou  dost  stray ! 

Expectance  calls  thee  now  another  way ; 

Thou  know'st  it  must  be  now  thy  only  bent 

To  keep  in  compass  of  thy  predicament : 

Then  quick  about  thy  purposed  business  come, 

That  to  the  next  I  may  resign  my  room. 

[Then  Ens  Is  represented  as  father  of  the  Predicaments,  his  ten  sons,  where- 
of the  eldest  stood  for  Substance,  with  his  canons,  which  Ens,  thus  speak- 
ing, explains.] 

Good  luck  befriend  thee,  son ;  for  at  thy  birth 
The  fairy  ladies  danced  upon  the  hearth  ; 


POEMS    ON    SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  41*7 

Thy  drowsy  nurse  hath  sworn  she  did  them  spy 

Come  tripping  to  the  room  where  thou  didst  lie, 

And,  sweetly  singing  round  about  thy  bed, 

Strew  all  their  blessings  on  thy  sleeping  head. 

She  heard  them  give  thee  this,  that  thou  shouldst  still 

From  eyes  of  mortals  walk  invisible : 

Yet  there  is  something  that  doth  force  my  fear, 

For  once  it  was  my  dismal  hap  to  hear 

A  sibyl  old,  bow-bent  with  crooked  age, 

That  far  events  full  wisely  could  presage, 

And  in  time's  long  and  dark  prospective  glass 

Foresaw  what  future  days  should  bring  to  pass : 

Your  son,  said  she,  (nor  can  you  it  prevent,) 

Shall  subject  be  to  many  an  accident. 

O'er  all  his  brethren  he  shall  reign  as  king, 

Yet  every  one  shall  make  him  underling ; 

And  those  that  cannot  live  from  him  asunder, 

Ungratefully  shall  strive  to  keep  him  under ; 

In  worth  and  excellence  he  shall  out-go  them, 

Yet,  being  above  them,  he  shall  be  below  them : 

From  others  he  shall  stand  in  need  of  nothing, 

Yet  on  his  brothers  shall  depend  for  clothing. 

To  find  a  foe  it  shall  not  be  his  hap, 

And  peace  shall  lull  him  in  her  flowery  lap ; 

Yet  shall  he  live  in  strife,  and  at  his  door 

Devouring  war  shall  never  cease  to  roar : 

Yea  it  shall  be  his  natural  property 

To  harbor  those  that  are  at  enmity. 

What  power,  what  force,  what  mighty  spell,  if  not 

Your  learned  hands,  can  loose  this  Gordian  knot  ? 

jThe  next,  Quantity  and  QuaHty,  spake  in  prose,  then  Relation  was  called 
by  his  name.] 

Kivers,  arise !  whether  thou  be  the  son 

Of  utmost  Tweed,  or  Oose,  or  gulfy  Dun  ; 

Or  Trent,  who,  like  some  earth-born  giant,  spreads 

His  thirsty  arms  along  the  indented  meads ; 

Or  sullen  Mole,  that  runneth  underneath ; 

Or  Severn  swift,  guilty  of  maiden's  death ; 

Or  rocky  Avon ;  or  of  sedgy  Lee ; 

Or  coaly  Tine ;  or  ancient  hallo w'd  Dee ; 

Or  Humber  loud,  that  keeps  the  Scythian's  name : 

Or  Medway  smooth ;  or  royal  tower'd  Thames. 

[The  rest  was  prose.] 


418  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

III. 

ON  THE  MCKNING  OF  CHRIST'S  NATIVITY. 
Composed  1629. 

Tms  is  the  month,  and  this  the  happy  morn, 
"Wherein  the  Son  of  Heaven's  eternal  King, 
Of  wedded  maid,  and  virgin  mother  born, 
Our  great  redemption  from  above  did  bring ; 
For  so  the  holy  sages  once  did  sing, 

That  he  our  deadly  forfeit  should  release, 
And  with  his  Father  work  us  a  perpetual  peace. 

That  glorious  form,  that  light  unsufferable, 
And  that  far-beaming  blaze  of  majesty, 
"Wherewith  he  wont  at  Heaven's  high  council-table 
To  sit  the  midst  of  Trinal  Unity, 
He  laid  aside ;  and  here  with  us  to  be, 

Forsook  the  courts  of  everlasting  day, 
And  chose  with  us  a  darksome  house  of  mortal  clay. 

Say,  heavenly  muse,  shall  not  thy  sacred  vein 

Afford  a  present  to  the  infant  God  ? 

Hast  thou  no  verse,  no  hymn,  or  solemn  strain, 

To  welcome  him  to  this  his  new  abode, 

Now  while  the  Heaven,  by  the  sun's  team  untrod, 

Hath  took  no  print  of  the  approaching  light, 
And  all  the  spangled  host  keep  watch  in  squadrons  bright 

See  how  from  far  upon  the  eastern  road 
The  star-led  wizards  haste  with  odors  sweet : 
O  run,  prevent  them  with  thy  humble  ode, 
And  lay  it  lowly  at  his  blessed  feet ; 
Have  thou  the  honor  first  thy  Lord  to  greet, 

And  join  thy  voice  unto  the  angel  quire, 
From  out  his  secret  altar  touch'd  with  hallo w'd  fire. 

THE   HYMN. 

IT  was  the  winter  wild, 
While  the  Heaven-born  child 

All  meanly  wrapt  in  the  rude  manger  lies ; 
Nature  in  awe  to  him 


POEMS    ON    SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  419 

Had  dofPd  her  gaudy  trim, 

With  her  great  Master  so  to  sympathize : 
It  was  no  season  then  for  her 
To  wanton  with  the  sun,  her  lusty  paramour. 

Only  with  speeches  fair 
She  woos  the  gentle  air 

To  hide  her  guilty  front  with  innocent  snow, 
And  on  her  naked  shame, 
Pollute  with  sinful  blame, 

The  saintly  veil  of  maiden  white  to  throw, 
Confounded,  that  her  Maker's  eyes 
Should  look  so  near  upon  her  foul  deformities. 

But  he,  her  fears  to  cease, 

Sent  down  the  meek-eyed  Peace ; 

She,  crown'd  with  olive  green,  came  softly  sliding 
Down  through  the  turning  sphere 
His  ready  harbinger, 

With  turtle  wing  the  amorous  clouds  dividing, 
And  waving  wide  her  myrtle  wand, 
She  strikes  an  universal  peace  through  sea  and  land. 

No  war,  or  battle's  sound, 
Was  heard  the  world  around : 

The  idle  spear  and  shield  were  high  up  hung ; 
The  hooked  chariot  stood, 
Unstain'd  with  hostile  blood ; 

The  trumpet  spake  not  to  the  armed  throng, 
And  kings  sat  still  with  awful  eye, 
As  if  they  surely  knew  their  sovereign  Lord  was  by. 

But  peaceful  was  the  night, 
Wherein  the  Prince  of  Light 

His  reign  of  peace  upon  the  earth  began : 
The  winds  with  wonder  whist 
Smoothly  the  waters  kiss'd, 

Whispering  new  joys  to  the  mild  ocean, 
Who  now  hath  quite  forgot  to  rave, 
While  birds  of  calm  sit  brooding  on  the  charmed  wave, 

The  stars  with  deep  amaze 
Stand  fix'd  in  steadfast  gaze, 


420  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Bending  one  way  their  precious  influence, 
And  will  not  take  their  flight, 
For  all  the  morning  light, 

Or  Lucifer  that  often  warn'd  them  thence ; 
But  in  their  glimmering  orbs  did  glow, 
Until  their  Lord  himself  bespake,  and  bid  them  go. 

And  though  the  shady  gloom 
Had  given  day  her  room, 

The  sun  himself  withheld  his  wonted  speed, 
And  hid  his  head  for  shame, 
As  his  inferior  flame 

The  new  enlighten'd  world  no  more  should  need ; 
He  saw  a  greater  sun  appear 
Than  his  bright  throne  or  burning  axletree  could  bear. 

The  shepherds  on  the  lawn, 
Or  ere  the  point  of  dawn, 

Sat  simply  chatting  in  a  rustic  row ; 
Full  little  thought  they  then, 
That  the  mighty  Pan 

"Was  kindly  come  to  live  with  them  below ; 
Perhaps  their  loves,  or  else  their  sheep, 
"Was  all  that  did  their  silly  thoughts  so  busy  keep. 

When  such  music  sweet 
Their  hearts  and  ears  did  greet, 

As  never  was  by  mortal  finger  strook, 
Divinely-warbled  voice 
Answering  the  stringed  noise, 

As  all  their  souls  in  blissful  rapture  took : 
The  air,  such  pleasure  loth  to  lose, 
With  thousand  echoes  still  prolongs  each  heavenly  close 

Nature  that  heard  such  sound, 
Beneath  the  hollow  round 

Of  Cynthia's  seat,  the  airy  region  thrilling, 
Now  was  almost  won 
To  think  her  part  was  done, 

And  that  her  reign  had  here  its  last  fulfilling ; 
She  knew  such  harmony  alone 
Could  hold  all  heaven  and  earth  in  happier  union. 


POEMS    ON    SEVERAL    OCCASIONS,  42] 

At  last  surrounds  their  sight 
A  globe  of  circular  light, 

That  with  long  beams  the  shame-faced  night  array'd ; 
The  helmed  cherubim, 
And  sworded  seraphim, 

Are  seen  in  glittering  ranks  with  wings  display'd, 
Harping  in  loud  and  solemn  quire, 
With  unexpressive  notes  to  Heaven's  new-born  Heir. 

Such  music  (as  'tis  said) 
Before  was  never  made, 

But  when  of  old  the  sons  of  morning  sung, 
While  the  Creator  great 
His  constellations  set, 

And  the  well-balanced  world  on  hinges  hung, 
And  cast  the  dark  foundations  deep, 
And  bid  the  weltering  waves  their  oozy  channel  keep. 

King  out,  ye  crystal  spheres, 
Once  bless  our  human  ears, 

(If  ye  have  power  to  touch  our  senses  so,) 
And  let  your  silver  chime 
Move  in  melodious  time, 

And  let  the  base  of  Heaven's  deep  organ  blow, 
And  with  your  ninefold  harmony 
Make  up  full  consort  to  the  angelic  symphony. 

For  if  such  holy  song 
Enwrap  our  fancy  long, 

Time  will  run  back,  and  fetch  the  age  of  gold, 
And  speckled  Yanity 
Will  sicken  soon  and  die, 

And  leprous  Sin  will  melt  from  earthly  mould, 
And  Hell  itself  will  pass  away, 
And  leave  her  dolorous  mansions  to  the  peering  day. 

Yea,  Truth  and  Justice  then 
Will  down  return  to  men, 

Orb'd  in  a  rainbow ;  and  like  glories  wearing, 
Mercy  will  sit  between, 
Throned  in  celestial  sheen, 

With  radiant  feet  the  tissued  clouds  down  steering, 
And  Heaven,  as  at  some  festival, 
Will  open  wide  the  gates  of  her  high  palace  hall. 

36 


422  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

But  wisest  Fate  says,  No, 
This  must  not  yet  be  so, 

The  babe  lies  yet  in  smiling  infancy, 
That  on  the  bitter  cross 
Must  redeem  our  loss ; 

So  both  himself  and  ns  to  glorify : 
Yet  first  to  those  ychain'd  in  sleep, 
The  wakeful  trump  of  doom  must  thunder  thro'  the  deep 

With  such  a  horrid  clang 
As  on  Mount  Sinai  rang, 

While  the  red  fire  and  smoldering  clouds  outbrake : 
The  aged  earth  aghast, 
With  terror  of  that  blast, 

Shall  from  the  surface  to  the  centre  shake ; 
When  at  the  world's  last  session, 
The  dreadful  Judge  in  middle  air  shall  spread  his  throne 

And  then  at  last  our  bliss 
Full  and  perfect  is, 

But  now  begins ;  for,  from  this  happy  day, 
The  old  dragon,  underground 
In  straiter  limits  bound, 

Not  half  so  far  casts  his  usurped  sway, 
And  wroth  to  see  his  kingdom  fail, 
Swinges  the  scaly  horror  of  his  folded  tail. 

The  oracles  are  dumb, 
No  voice  or  hideous  hum 

Runs  through  the  arched  roof  in  words  deceiving. 
Apollo  from  his  shrine 
Can  no  more  divine, 

With  hollow  shriek  the  steep  of  Delphos  leaving. 
No  nightly  trance,  or  breathed  spell 
Inspires  the  pale-eyed  priest  from  the  prophetic  cell. 

The  lonely  mountains  o'er, 
And  the  resounding  shore, 

A  voice  of  weeping  heard  and  loud  lament ; 
From  haunted  spring,  and  dale 
Edged  with  poplar  pale, 

The  parting  genius  is  with  sighing  sent ; 
With  flower-inwoven  tresses  torn 
The  nymphs  in  twilight  shade  of  tangled  thickets  mourn, 


POEMS    ON   SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  428 

In  consecrated  earth, 
And  on  the  holy  hearth, 

The  Lars  and  Lemures  moan  with  midnight  plaint ; 
In  urns,  and  altars  round, 
A  drear  and  dying  sound 

Affrights  the  Flamens  at  their  service  quaint ; 
And  the  chill  marble  seems  to  sweat, 
While  each  peculiar  power  forgoes  his  wonted  seat. 

Peor  and  Baalim 
Forsake  their  temples  dim, 

With  that  twice  batter'd  god  of  Palestine ; 
And  mooned  Ashtaroth, 
Heaven's  queen  and  mother  both, 

Now  sits  not  girt  with  tapers'  holy  shine ; 
The  Lybic  Hammon  shrinks  his  horn, 
In  vain  the  Tyrian  maids  their  wounded  Thammuz  mourn. 

And  sullen  Moloch  fled, 
Hath  left  in  shadows  dread 

His  burning  idol  all  of  blackest  hue ; 
In  vain  with  cymbals'  ring 
They  call  the  grisly  king, 

In  dismal  dance  about  the  furnace  blue ; 
The  brutish  gods  of  Nile  as  fast, 
Isis,  and  Orus,  and  the  dog  Anubis,  haste. 

Nor  is  Osiris  seen 

In  Memphian  grove  or  green, 

Trampling  the  unshower'd  grass  with  lowings  loud : 
Nor  can  he  be  at  rest 
Within  his  sacred  chest, 

Naught  but  profoundest  Hell  can  be  his  shroud ; 
In  vain  with  timbrell'd  anthems  dark 
The  sable-stoled  sorcerers  bear  his  worshipped  ark. 

He  feels  from  Juda's  land 
The  dreaded  Infant's  hand, 

The  rays  of  Bethlehem  blind  his  dusky  eyn ; 
Nor  all  the  gods  beside, 
Longer  dare  abide, 

Not  Typhon  huge  ending  in  snaky  twine : 
Our  Babe  to  show  his  Godhead  true, 
Can  in  his  swaddling  bands  control  the  damned  crew 


424  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

So  when  the  sun  in  bed, 
Curtain'd  with  cloudy  red, 

Pillows  his  chin  upon  an  orient  wave, 
The  flocking  shadows  pale 
Troop  to  the  infernal  jail, 

Each  fetter'd  ghost  slips  to  his  several  grave, 
And  the  yellow-skirted  fays 
Fly  after  the  night-steeds,  leaving  their  moon-loved  maze 

But  see  the  virgin  blest 
Hath  laid  her  Babe  to  rest, 

Time  is  our  tedious  song  should  here  have  ending : 
Heaven's  youngest  teemed  star 
Hath  fix'd  her  polish'd  car, 

Her  sleeping  Lord  with  handmaid  lamp  attending  : 
And  all  about  the  courtly  stable 
Bright-harness'd  angels  sit  in  order  serviceable. 


IV. 

THE  PASSION. 

EREWHILE  of  music,  and  ethereal  mirth, 
"Wherewith  the  stage  of  air  and  earth  did  ring, 
And  joyous  news  of  heavenly  Infant's  birth, 
My  muse  with  angels  did  divide  to  sing ; 
But  headlong  joy  is  ever  on  the  wing, 

In  winter  solstice  like  the  shorten'd  light 
Soon  swallow'd  up  in  dark  and  long  out-living  night. 

For  now  to  sorrow  must  I  tune  my  song, 
And  set  my  harp  to  notes  of  saddest  woe, 
Which  on  our  dearest  Lord  did  seize  ere  long, 
Dangers,  and  snares,  and  wrongs,  and  worse  than  so. 
Which  he  for  us  did  freely  undergo : 

Most  perfect  Hero,  tried  in  heaviest  plight 
Of  labors  huge  and  hard,  too  hard  for  human  wight ! 

He,  sovereign  Priest,  stooping  his  regal  head, 
That  dropt  with  odorous  oil  down  his  fair  eyes, 


POEMS    ON   SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  425 

Poor  fleshly  tabernacle  entered, 

His  starry  front  low-roof  d  beneath  the  skies ; 

O  what  a  mask  was  there,  what  a  disguise ! 

Yet  more ;  the  stroke  of  death  he  must  abide, 
Then  lies  him  meekly  down  fast  by  his  brethren's  side. 

These  latest  scenes  confine  my  roving  verse, 
To  this  horizon  is  my  Phoebus  bound ; 
His  godlike  acts,  and  his  temptations  fierce, 
And  former  sufferings  other  where  are  found  ; 
Loud  o'er  the  rest  Cremona's  trump  doth  sound ; 

Me  softer  airs  befit,  and  softer  strings 
Of  lute,  or  viol,  still  more  apt  for  mournful  things. 

Befriend  me,  Night,  best  patroness  of  grief. 
Over  the  pole  thy  thickest  mantle  throw, 
And  work  my  flatter'd  fancy  to  belief 
That  heaven  and  earth  are  color'd  with  my  woe ; 
My  sorrows  are  too  dark  for  day  to  know : 

The  leaves  should  all  be  black  whereon  I  write, 
And  letters,  where  my  tears  have  wash'd,  a  wannish  white, 

See,  see  the  chariot,  and  those  rushing  wheels,   . 
That  whirl'd  the  prophet  up  at  Chebar's  flood : 
My  spirit  some  transporting  cherub  feels, 
To  bear  me  where  the  towers  of  Salem  stood, 
Once  glorious  towers,  now  sunk  in  guiltless  blood ; 

There  doth  my  soul  in  holy  vision  sit 
In  pensive  trance,  and  anguish,  and  ecstatic  fit. 

Mine  eye  hath  found  that  sad  sepulchral  rock 
That  was  the  casket  of  Heaven's  richest  store, 
And  here  though  grief  my  feeble  hands  up  lock, 
Yet  on  the  soften'd  quarry  would  I  score 
My  plaining  verse  as  lively  as  before ; 

For  sure  so  well  instructed  are  my  tears, 
That  they  would  fitly  fall  in  order'd  characters. 

Or  should  I,  thence  hurried  on  viewless  wing, 
Take  up  a  weeping  on  the  mountains  wild. 
The  gentle  neighborhood  of  grove  and  spring 
Would  soon  unbosom  all  their  echoes  mild, 


420  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Arid  I  (for  grief  is  easily  beguiled)- 

Might  think  the  infection  of  my  sorrows  loud 
Had  got  a  race  of  mourners  on  some  pregnant  cloud. 

[This  subject  the  Author  finding  to  be  above  the  years  he  had,  when  ht 
wrote  it,  and  nothing  satisfied  with  what  was  begun,  left  it  unfinished.] 


Y. 
ON  TIME. 

FLY,  envious  Time,  till  thou  run  out  thy  race  ; 

Call  on  the  lazy  leaden-stepping  hours, 

Whose  speed  is  hut  the  heavy  plummet's  pace ; 

And  glut  thyself  with  what  thy  womb  devours, 

Which  is  no  more  than  what  is  false  and  vain, 

And  merely  mortal  dross ; 

So  little  is  our  loss, 

So  little  is  thy  gain. 

For  when  as  each  thing  bad  thou  hast  entomb'd, 

And  last  of  all  thy  greedy  self  consumed, 

Then  long  eternity  shall  greet  our  bliss 

With  an  individual  kiss ; 

And  joy  shall  overtake  us  as  a  flood, 

When  every  thing  that  is  sincerely  good 

And  perfectly  divine, 

With  truth,  and  peace,  and  love,  shall  ever  shine 

About  the  supreme  throne 

Of  him,  to  whose  happy-making  sight  alone 

When  once  our  heavenly-guided  soul  shall  climb, 

Then  all  this  earthy  grossness  quit, 

Attired  with  stars,  we  shall  forever  sit, 

Triumphing  over  Death,  and  Chance,  and  thee,  0  Time 


VI. 

UPON  THE  CIRCUMCISION. 

YE  flaming  powers,  and  winged  warriors  bright, 
That  erst  with  music,  and  triumphant  song, 
First  heard  by  happy  watchful  shepherds'  ear, 
So  swe-etly  sung  your  joy  the  clouds  along 


POEMS    OX    SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  427 

Through  the  soft  silence  of  the  listening  night, 
N"ow  mourn ;  and  if  sad  share  with  us  to  bear 
Your  fiery  essence  can  distill  no  tear, 
Burn  in  your  sighs,  and  borrow 
Seas  wept  from  our  deep  sorrow : 
He  who  with  all  Heaven's  heraldry  whilere 
Enter'd  the  world,  now  bleeds  to  give  us  ease  ; 
Alas,  how  soon  our  sin 
Sore  doth  begin 

His  infancy  to  seize ! 

O  more  exceeding  love,  or  law  more  just  ? 
Just  law  indeed,  but  more  exceeding  love ! 
For  we  by  rightful  doom  remediless 
"Were  lost  in  death,  till  he  that  dwelt  above, 
High  throned  in  secret  bliss,  for  us  frail  dust 
Emptied  his  glory,  even  to  nakedness  ; 
And  that  great  covenant  which  we  still  transgress 
Entirely  satisfied, 
And  the  full  wrath  beside 
Of  vengeful  justice  bore  for  our  excess, 
And  seals  obedience  first  with  wounding  smart 
This  day;  but  oh,  ere  long* 
Huge  pangs  and  strong 
Will  pierce  more  near  his  heart. 


VII. 
AT  A  SOLEMN  MUSIC. 


BLEST  pair  of  Sirens,  pledges 

Sphere-born  harmonious  sisters,  Voice  and  Verse, 

Wed  your  divine  sounds,  and  mix'd  power  employ, 

Dead  things  with  inbreathed  sense  able  to  pierce, 

And  to  our  high-raised  phantasy  present 

That  undisturbed  song  of  pure  concent, 

Aye  sung  before  the  sapphire-color'd  throne 

To  him  that  sits  thereon, 

With  saintly  shout,  and  solemn  jubilee, 

Where  the  bright  seraphim  in  burning  row 

Their  loud  uplifted  angel- trumpets  blow, 

And  the  cherubic  host  in  thousand  quires 


428  MILTON'S    POETICAL   WORKS. 

Touch  their  immortal  harps  of  golden  wires, 

With  those  just  spirits  that  wear  victorious  palms, 

Hymns  devout  and  holy  psalms 

Singing  everlastingly ; 

That  we  on  earth  with  undiscording  voice 

May  rightly  answer  that  melodious  noise ; 

As  once  we  did,  till  disproportion^  sin 

Jarr'd  against  nature's  chime,  and  with  harsh  din 

Broke  the  fair  music  that  all  creatures  made 

To  their  great  Lord,  whose  love  their  motion  sway'd 

In  perfect  diapason,  whilst  they  stood 

In  first  obedience,  and  their  state  of  good. 

O  may  we  soon  again  renew  that  song, 

And  keep  in  tune  with  Heaven,  till  God  ere  long 

To  his  celestial  consort  us  unite, 

To  live  with  him,  and  sing  in  endless  morn  of  light. 


YIII. 
AN  EPITAPH  ON  THE  MAKCHIONESS  OF  WINCHESTER, 

THIS  rich  marble  doth  inter 
The  honor'd  wife  of  Winchester, 
A  viscount's  daughter,  an  earl's  heir, 
Besides  what  her  virtues  fail- 
Added  to  her  noble  birth, 
More  than  she  could  own  from  earth. 
Summers  three  times  eight  save  one 
She  had  told ;  alas !  too  soon, 
After  so  short  time  of  breath, 
To  house  with  darkness,  and  with  death. 
Yet  had  the  number  of  her  days 
Been  as  complete  as  was  her  praise, 
Nature  and  fate  had  had  no  strife 
In  giving  limit  to  her  life. 
Her  high  birth,  and  her  graces  sweet, 
Quickly  found  a  lover  meet : 
The  virgin  quire  for  her  request 
The  god  that  sits  at  marriage  feast ; 
He  at  their  invoking  came, 
But  with  a  scarce  well-lighted  flame ; 
And  in  his  garland  as  he  stood, 


POEMS    OX    SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  429 

Ye  might  discern  a  cypress  bud. 

Once  had  the  early  matrons  run 

To  greet  her  of  a  lovely  son, 

And  now  with  second  hope  she  goes, 

And  calls  Lucina  to  her  throes ; 

But  whether  by  mischance  or  blame 

Atropos  for  Lucina  came ; 

And  with  remorseless  cruelty 

Spoil'd  at  once  both  fruit  and  tree : 

The  hapless  babe  before  his  birth 

Had  burial,  yet  not  laid  in  earth, 

And  the  languished  mother's  womb 

Was  not  long  a  living  tomb. 

So  have  I  seen  some  tender  slip, 

Saved  with  care  from  winter's  nip, 

The  pride  of  her  carnation  train, 

Pluck'd  up  by  some  unheedy  swain, 

Who  only  thought  to  crop  the  flower 

New  shot  up  from  vernal  shower ; 

But  the  fair  blossom  hangs  the  head 

Side-ways,  as  on  a  dying  bed, 

And  those  pearls  of  dew  she  wears 

Prove  to  be  presaging  tears, 

Which  the  sad  morn  had  let  fall 

On  her  hastening  funeral. 

Gentle  lady,  may  thy  grave 

Peace  and  quiet  ever  have ; 

After  this  thy  travail  sore, 

Sweet  rest  seize  thee  evermore, 

That  to  give  the  world  increase, 

Shortened  hast  thy  own  life's  lease. 

Here,  besides  the  sorrowing 

That  thy  noble  house  doth  bring, 

Here  be  tears  of  perfect  moan 

Wept  for  thee  in  Helicon, 

And  some  flowers,  and  some  bays, 

For  thy  hearse,  to  strew  the  ways, 

Sent  thee  from  the  banks  of  Came, 

Devoted  to  thy  virtuous  name ; 

Whilst  thou,  bright  saint,  high  sitt'st  in  glory, 

Next  her  much  like  to  thee  in  story, 

That  fair  Syrian  shepherdess, 

Who,  after  years  of  barrenness, 


430  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

The  highly-favored  Joseph  bore 
To  him  that  served  for  her  before, 
And  at  her  next  birth,  much  like  thee, 
Through  pangs  fled  to  felicity. 
Far  within  the  bosom  bright 
Of  blazing  Majesty  and  Light : 
There  with  thee,  new  welcome  saint, 
Like  fortunes  may  her  soul  acquaint, 
With  thee  there  clad  in  radiant  sheen, 
No  marchioness,  but  now  a  queen. 


IX. 
SONG  ON  MAY    MORNING. 

Now  the  bright  morning  star,  day's  harbinger, 
Comes  dancing  from  the  east,  and  leads  with  her 
The  flowery  May,  who  from  her  green  lap  throws* 
The  yellow  cowslip,  and  the  pale  primrose. 

Hail,  bounteous  May !  that  dost  inspire 

Mirth  and  youth  and  warm  desire ; 

"Woods  and  groves  are  of  thy  dressing, 

Hill  and  dale  doth  boast  thy  blessing. 
Thus  we  salute  thee  with  our  early  song, 
And  welcome  thee,  and  wish  thee  long. 


X. 

ON  SHAKSPEARE.    1630. 

WHAT  needs  my  Shakspeare  for  his  honor'd  bones 

The  labor  of  an  age  in  piled  stones, 

Or  that  his  hallow'd  reliques  should  be  hid 

Under  a  star-ypointing  pyramid  ? 

Dear  son  of  memory,  great  heir  of  fame, 

"What  need'st  thou  such  weak  witness  of  thy  name  9 

Thou  in  our  wonder  and  astonishment 

Hast  built  thyself  a  livelong  monument. 

For  whilst  to  the  shame  of  slow-endeavoring  art 

Thy  easy  numbers  flow,  and  that  each  heart 

Hath  from  the  leaves  of  thy  unvalued  book 


POEMS    OX    SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  431 

Those  Delphic  lines  with  deep  impression  lock, 
Then  thou  our  fancy  of  itself  bereaving, 
Dost  make  us  marble  with  too  much  conceiving ; 
And  so  sepulchred  in  such  pomp  dost  lie, 
That  kings  for  such  a  tomb  would  wish  to  die. 


XL 

ON  THE  UNIVERSITY  CARRIER, 

WHO  SICKENED  IN  THE  TIME  OP  HIS   VACANCY,  BEING  FOEBID  TO  OO  TO 
LONDON,    BY  REASON  OP  THE  PLAGUE. 

HEKE  lies  old  Hobson ;  Death  hath  broke  his  girt, 

And  here,  alas,  hath  laid  him  in  the  dirt ; 

Or  else  the  ways  being  foul,  twenty  to  one, 

He 's  here  stuck  in  a  slough,  and  overthrown. 

'Twas  such  a  shifter,  that  if  truth  were  known, 

Death  was  half  glad  when  he  had  got  him  down ; 

For  he  had,  any  time  this  ten  years  full, 

Dodged  with  him  betwixt  Cambridge  and  the  Bull. 

And  surely  Death  could  never  have  prevail'd, 

Had  not  his  weekly  course  of  carriage  fail'd ; 

But  lately  finding  him  so  long  at  home, 

And  thinking  now  his  journey's  end  was  come, 

And  that  he  had  ta'en  up  his  latest  inn, 

In  the  kind  office  of  a  chamberlain 

Show'd  him  his  room  where  he  must  lodge  that  r  ight, 

Pull'd  off  his  boots,  and  took  away  the  light : 

If  any  ask  for  him,  it  shall  be  said, 

Hobson  has  supp'd,  and 's  newly  gone  to  bed. 


XII. 
ANOTHER  ON  THE  SAME. 

HEEE  lieth  one,  who  did  most  truly  prove 
That  he  could  never  die  while  he  could  move ; 
So  hung  his  destiny,  never  to  rot 
"While  he  might  still  jog  on  and  keep  his  trot, 
Made  of  sphere-metal,  never  to  decay 
Until  his  revolution  was  at  stay. 


MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Time  numbers  motion,  yet  (without  a  crime 

'Gainst  old  truth)  motion  number'd  out  his  time : 

And  like  an  engine  moved  with  wheel  and  weight, 

His  principles  being  ceased,  he  ended  straight. 

Eest  that  gives  all  men  life,  gave  him  his  death. 

And  too  much  breathing  put  him  out  of  breath  ; 

ISTor  were  it  contradiction  to  affirm 

Too  long  vacation  hastened  on  his  term. 

Merely  to  drive  the  time  away  he  sicken'd, 

Fainted,  and  died,  nor  would  with  ale  be  quicken'd ; 

"  Nay,"  quoth  he,  on  his  swooning  bed  out-stretch'd, 

"  If  I  mayn't  carry,  sure  I'll  ne'er  be  fetch'd, 

But  vow,  though  the  cross  doctors  all  stood  hearers, 

For  one  carrier  put  down  to  make  six  bearers." 

Ease  was  his  chief  disease,  and  to  judge  right, 

He  died  for  heaviness  that  his  cart  went  light : 

His  leisure  told  him  that  his  time  was  come, 

And  lack  of  load  made  his  life  burdensome, 

That  even  to  his  last  breath,  (there  be  that  say  't,) 

As  he  were  press'd  to  death,  he  cried  u  More  weight ; 

But  had  his  doings  lasted  as  they  were^ 

He  had  been  an  immortal  carrier. 

Obedient  to  the  moon  he  spent  his  date 

In  course  reciprocal,  and  had  his  fate 

Link'd  to  the  mutual  flowing  of  the  seas, 

Yet  (strange  to  think)  his  wain  was  his  increase : 

His  letters  are  deliver'd  all  and  gone, 

Only  remains  this  superscription. 


XIII. 
L'ALLEGKO. 

HENCE,  loathed  Melancholy, 
Of  Cerberus  and  blackest  Midnight  born, 
In  Stygian  cave  forlorn, 

'Mongst  horrid  shapes,  and  shrieks,  and  sights  unholy ; 
Find  out  some  uncouth  cell, 

"Where  brooding  darkness  spreads  his  jealous  wings, 
And  the  night-raven  sings : 

There,  under  ebon  shades,  and  low-brow'd  rocks, 


As  ragged  as  thy  locks. 
In  dark  Cimm< 


immerian  desert  ever  dwell. 


POEMS    OX    SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  433 

But  come  thou  goddess  fair  and  free, 
In  Heaven  yclep'd  Euphrosyne, 
And  by  men,  heart-easing  Mirth, 
Whom  lovely  Venus  at  a  birth 
With  two  sister  graces  more 
To  ivy-crowned  Bacchus  bore ; 
Or  whether  (as  some  sages  sing) 
The  frolic  wind  that  breathes  the  spring 
Zephyr  with  Aurora  playing, 
As  he  met  her  once  a  maying, 
There  on  beds  of  violet  blue, 
And  fresh-blown  roses  wash'd  in  dew, 
Fill'd  her  with  thee  a  daughter  fair, 
So  buxom,  blithe,  and  debonair. 
Haste  thee,  nymph,  and  bring  with  thee 
Jest  and  youthful  Jollity, 
Quips,  and  cranks,  and  wanton  wiles, 
Nods,  and  becks,  and  wreathed  smiles, 
Such  as  hang  on  Hebe's  cheek, 
And  love  to  live  in  dimple  sleek ; 
Sport  that  wrinkled  Care  derides, 
And  Laughter  holding  both  his  sides. 
Come,  and  trip  it  as  you  go 
On  the  light  fantastic  toe, 
And  in  thy  right  hand  lead  with  thee, 
The  mountain  nymph,  sweet  Liberty ; 
And  if  I  give  thee  honor  due, 
Mirth,  admit  me  of  thy  crew, 
To  live  with  her,  and  live  with  thee, 
In  unreproved  pleasures  free ; 
To  hear  the  lark  begin  his  flight, 
And  singing  startle  the  dull  night, 
From  his  watch-tower  in  the  skies, 
Till  the  dappled  dawn  doth  rise ; 
Then  to  come  in  spite  of  sorrow, 
And  at  my  window  bid  good-morrow, 
Through  the  sweet-brier,  or  the  vine, 
Or  the  twisted  eglantine ; 
While  the  cock  with  lively  din 
Scatters  the  rear  of  darkness  thin, 
And  to  the  stack,  or  the  barn-door, 
Stoutly  struts  his  dames  before : 
Oft  listening  how  the  hounds  and  horn 
37 


434  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Cheerly  rouse  the  slumbering  morn, 

From  the  side  of  some  hoar  hill, 

Through  the  high  wood  echoing  shrill  • 

Some  time  walking  not  unseen 

By  hedge-row  elms,  on  hillocks  green, 

Right  against  the  eastern  gate, 

Where  the  great  sun  begins  his  state, 

Robed  in  flames  and  amber  light, 

The  clouds  in  thousand  liveries  dight, 

While  the  ploughman  near  at  hand 

Whistles  o'er  the  furrow'd  land, 

And  the  milkmaid  singeth  blithe, 

And  the  mower  whets  his  scythe, 

And  every  shepherd  tells  his  tale 

Under  the  hawthorn  in  the  dale. 

Straight  mine  eye  hath  caught  new  pleasures 

Whilst  the  landscape  round  it  measures, 

Russet  lawns,  and  fallows  gray, 

Where  the  nibbling  flocks  do  stray, 

Mountains  on  whose  barren  breast 

The  laboring  clouds  do  often  rest, 

Meadows  trim  with  daisies  pied, 

Shallow  brooks,  and  rivers  wide. 

Towers  and  battlements  it  sees 

Bosom'd  high  in  tufted  trees, 

Where  perhaps  some  beauty  lies, 

The  cynosure  of  neighboring  eyes. 

Hard  by,  a  cottage  chimney  smokes, 

From  betwixt  two  aged  oaks, 

Where  Corydon  and  Thyrsis  met, 

Are  at  their  savory  dinner  set 

Of  herbs,  and  other  country  messes, 

Which  the  neat-handed  Phillis  dresses ; 

And  then  in  haste  her  bower  she  leaves, 

With  Thestylis  to  bind  the  sheaves  ; 

Or  if  the  earlier  season  lead 

To  the  tann'd  haycock  in  the  mead. 

Sometimes  with  secure  delight 

The  upland  hamlets  will  invite, 

When  the  merry  bells  ring  round, 

And  the  jocund  rebecs  sound 

To  many  a  youth,  and  many  a  maid, 

Dancing  in  the  checkered  shade : 


POEMS    ON    SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  435 

And  young  and  old  come  forth  to  play 

On  a  sunshine  holiday, 

Till  the  livelong  daylight  fail ; 

Then  to  the  spicy  nut-brown  ale, 

With  stories  told  of  many  a  feat, 

How  fairy  Mab  the  junkets  eat, 

She  was  pinch'd,  and  pull'd,  she  said, 

And  he  by  friar's-lantern  led, 

Tells  how  the  drudging  goblin  sweat, 

To  earn  his  cream-bowl  duly  set, 

When  in  one  night,  ere  glimpse  of  morn, 

His  shadowy  flail  hath  thresh'd  the  corn, 

That  ten  day-laborers  could  not  end. ; 

Then  lies  him  down  the  lubber  fiend, 

And  stretch'd  out  all  the  chimney's  length* 

Basks  at  the  fire  his  hairy  strength, 

And  crop-full  out  of  doors  he  flings, 

Ere  the  first  cock  his  matin  rings. 

Thus  done  the  tales,  to  bed  they  creep, 

By  whispering  winds  soon  lull'd  asleep. 

Tower'd  cities  please  us  then, 

And  the  busy  hum  of  men, 

Where  throngs  of  knights  and  barons  bold 

In  weeds  of  peace  high  triumphs  hold, 

With  store  of  ladies,  whose  bright  eyes 

Rain  influence,  and  judge  the  prize 

Of  wit,  or  arms,  while  both  contend 

To  win  her  grace,  whom  all  commend. 

There  let  Hymen  oft  appear 

In  saffron  robe,  with  taper  clear, 

And  pomp,  and  feast,  and  revelry, 

With  mask,  and  antique  pageantry, 

Such  sights  as  youthful  poets  dream 

On  summer  eves  by  haunted  stream. 

Then  to  the  well-trod  stage  anon, 

If  Jonson's  learned  sock  be  on, 

Or  sweetest  Shakspeare,  fancy's  child, 

Warble  his  native  wood-notes  wild. 

And  ever  against  eating  cares, 

Lap  me  in  soft  Lydian  airs, 

Married  to  immortal  verse, 

Such  as  the  meeting  soul  may  pierce 

In  notes,  with  many  a  winding  bout 


436  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Of  linked  sweetness  long  drawn  out, 
With  wanton  heed,  and  giddy  cunning, 
The  melting  voice  through  mazes  running, 
Untwisting  all  the  chains  that  tie 
The  hidden  soul  of  harmony ; 
That  Orpheus'  self  may  heave  his  head 
From  golden  slumber  on  a  bed 
Of  heapt  Elysian  flowers,  and  hear 
Such  strains  as  would  have  won  the  ear 
Of  Pluto,  to  have  quite  set  free 
His  half-regain'd  Eurydice. 
These  delights  if  thou  canst  give, 
Mir.th,  with  thee  I  mean  to  live. 


XIV. 

IL  PENSEROSO. 

HENCE,  vain  deluding  joys, 

The  brood  of  folly  without  father  bred ! 
How  little  you  bested, 

Or  fill  the  fixed  mind  with  all  your  toys  I 
Dwell  in  some  idle  brain, 

And  fancies  fond  with  gaudy  shapes  possess, 
As  thick  and  numberless 

As  the  gay  motes  that  people  the  sunbeams, 
Or  likest  hovering  dreams, 

The  fickle  pensioners  of  Morpheus'  train. 
But  hail,  thou  goddess  sage  and  holy, 
Hail,  divinest  Melancholy, 
"Whose  saintly  visage  is  too  bright 
To  hit  the  sense  of  human  sight, 
And  therefore  to  our  weaker  view 
Overlaid  with  black,  staid  wisdom's  hue ; 
Black,  but  such  as  in  esteem 
Prince  Memnon's  sister  might  beseem, 
Or  that  starred  Ethiop  queen  that  strove 
To  set  her  beauty's  praise  above 
The  sea-nymphs,  and  their  powers  offended : 
Yet  thou  art  higher  far  descended  ; 
Thee  bright-hair'd  Yesta  long  of  yore 
To  solitary  Saturn  bore ; 


•  »  • 

••• 

i 


•    I 


Come, pensive  Run,  devout  cmd  pure, 
Sober,  'steadfast,  .and    demure. 
.AD.  in  a   robe    of  daukest  grain, 
wfli    majestic    train. 


438  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Riding  near  her  highest  noon, 
Like  one  that  had  been  led  astray 
Through  the  Heaven's  wide  pathless  way 
And  oft,  as  if  her  head  she  bow'd, 
Stooping  through  a  fleecy  cloud. 
Oft  on  a  plat  of  rising  ground, 
1  hear  the  far-off  curfew  sound, 
Over  some  wide-water'd  shore, 
Swinging  slow  with  sullen  roar ; 
Or  if  the  air  will  not  permit, 
Some  still  removed  place  will  fit, 
Where  glowing  embers  through  the  room 
Teach  light  to  counterfeit  a  gloom ; 
Far  from  all  resort  of  mirth, 
Save  the  cricket  on  the  hearth, 
Or  the  bellman's  drowsy  charm, 
To  bless  the  doors  from  nightly  harm : 
Or  let  my  lamp  at  midnight  hour, 
Be  seen  in  some  high  lonely  tower, 
Where  I  may  oft  outwatch  the  Bear, 
With  thrice  great  Hermes,  or  unsphere 
The  spirit  of  Plato  to  unfold 
What  worlds,  or  what  vast  regions,  hold 
The  immortal  mind  that  hath  forsook 
Her  mansion  in  this  fleshly  nook : 
And  of  those  demons  that  are  found 
In  fire,  air,  flood,  or  under  ground, 
Whose  power  hath  a  true  consent 
With  planet  or  with  element. 
Sometime  let  gorgeous  tragedy 
In  sceptred  pall  come  sweeping  by, 
Presenting  Thebes,  or  Pelops'  line, 
Or  the  tale  of  Troy  divine, 
Or  what  (though  rare)  of  later  age 
Ennobled  hath  the  buskin'd  stage. 
But  oh,  sad  virgin,  that  thy  power 
Might  raise  MUSJBUS  from  his  bower, 
Or  bid  the  soul  of  Orpheus  sing 
Such  notes  as,  warbled  to  the  string,  . 
Drew  iron  tears  down  Pluto's  cheek, 
And  made  Hell  grant  what  love  did  seek  I 
Or  call  up  him  that  left  half  told 
The  story  of  Cambuscan  bold, 


POEMS    ON    SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  439 

Of  Camball,  and  of  Algarsife, 

And  who  had  Canace  to  wife, 

That  own'd  the  virtuous  ring  and  glass, 

And  of  the  wondrous  horse  of  brass 

On  which  the  Tartar  king  did  ride ; 

And  if  aught  else  great  bards  beside 

In  sage  and  solemn  tunes  have  sung, 

Of  turneys  and  of  trophies  hung, 

Of  forests  and  enchantments  drear, 

Where  more  is  meant  than  meets  the  ear. 

Thus  night  oft  see  me  in  thy  pale  career, 

Till  civil-suited  morn  appear, 

Not  trickt  and  frounc't  as  she  was  wont 

With  the  attic  boy  to  hunt, 

But  kerchief  d  in  a  comely  cloud, 

While  rocking  winds  are  piping  loud, 

Or  ushered  with  a  shower  still, 

When  the  gust  hath  blown  his  fill, 

Ending  on  the  rustling  leaves, 

With  minute  drops  from  off  the  eaves. 

And  when  the  sun  begins  to  fling 

His  flaring  beams,  me,  goddess,  bring 

To  arched  walks  of  twilight  groves, 

And  shadows  brown  that  Sylvan  loves, 

Of  pine,  or  monumental  oak, 

Where  the  rude  axe  with  heaved  stroke 

Was  never  heard  the  nymphs  to  daunt, 

Or  fright  them  from  their  hallo w'd  haunt, 

There  in  close  covert  by  some  brook, 

Where  no  profaner  eye  may  look, 

Hide  me  from  day's  garish  eye, 

While  the  bee  with  honeyed  thigh, 

That  at  her  flowery  work  doth  sing, 

And  the  waters  murmuring, 

With  such  consort  as  they  keep, 

Entice  the  dewy  feather'd  sleep ; 

And  let  some  strange  mysterious  drearn 

Wave  at  his  wings  in  airy  stream 

Of  lively  portraiture  displayed, 

Softly  on  my  eyelids  laid. 

And  as  I  wake,  sweet  music  breathe 

Above,  about,  or  underneath, 

Sent  by  some  spirit  to  mortals  good, 


440  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Or  the  unseen  genius  of  the  wood. 

But  let  my  due  feet  never  fail 

To  walk  the  studious  cloister's  pale, 

And  love  the  high  embowed  roof, 

With  antique  pillars  massy  proof, 

And  storied  windows  richly  dight, 

Casting  a  dim  religious  light. 

There  let  the  pealing  organ  blow, 

To  the  full  voiced  quire  below, 

In  service  high,  and  anthems  clear, 

As  may  with  sweetness,  through  mine  ear, 

Dissolve  me  into  ecstasies, 

And  bring  all  Heaven  before  mine  eyes. 

And  may  at  last  my  weary  age 

Find  out  the  peaceful  hermitage, 

The  hairy  gown  and  mossy  cell, 

Where  I  may  sit  and  rightly  spell 

Of  every  star  that  Heaven  doth  show, 

And  every  herb  that  sips  the  dew ; 

Till  old  experience  do  attain 

To  something  like  prophetic  strain. 

These  pleasures,  Melancholy,  give, 

And  I  with  thee  will  choose  to  live. 


XV. 
AKOADES. 

[Part  of  an  entertainment  presented  to  the  Countess  Dowager  of 
Derby,  at  Harefield,  by  some  noble  persons  of  her  family,  who  ap- 
pear on  the  scene  in  pastoral  habit,  moving  towards  the  Seat  of  State, 
with  this  Song.] 

SONG  I. 

LOOK,  nymphs,  and  shepherds  look, 
What  sudden  blaze  of  majesty 
Is  that  which  we  from  hence  descry, 
Too  divine  to  be  mistook : 

This,  this  is  she 

To  whom  our  views  and  wishes  bend ; 
Here  our  solemn  search  hath  end. 

Fame,  that  her  high  worth  to  raise, 
Seem'd  erst  so  lavish  and  profuse, 


POEMS    ON   SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  441 

We  may  justly  now  accuse 
Of  detraction  from  her  praise ; 

Less  than  half  we  find  expressed, 

Envy  bid  conceal  the  rest. 

Mark  what  radiant  state  she  spreads, 
In  circle  round  her  shining  throne, 
Shooting  her  beams  like  silver  threads ; 
This,  this  is  she  alone, 

Sitting  like  a  goddess  bright, 

In  the  centre  of  her  light. 

Might  she  the  wise  Latona  be, 
Or  the  tower'd  Cybele, 
Mother  of  a  hundred  gods  ? 
Juno  dares  not  give  her  odds ; 

Who  had  thought  this  clime  had  held 

A  deity  so  unparallel'd  ? 

[As  they  come  forward,  the  GENIUS  of  the  wood  appears,  and  turning 
towards  them,  speaks.] 

GENIUS. 

Stay,  gentle  swains,  for  though  in  this  disguise, 
I  see  bright  honor  sparkle  through  your  eyes ; 
Of  famous  Arcady  ye  are,  and  sprung 
Of  that  renowned  flood,  so  often  sung, 
Divine  Alpheus,  who  by  secret  sluice 
Stole  under  seas  to.  meet  his  Arethuse ; 
And  ye,  the  breathing  roses  of  the  wood, 
Fair  silver-buskin'd  nymphs  as  great  and  good, 
I  know  this  quest  of  yours,  and  free  intent, 
Was  all  in  honor  and  devotion  meant 
To  the  great  mistress  of  yon  princely  shrine, 
Whom  with  low  reverence  I  adore  as  mine, 
And  with  all  helpful  service  will  comply 
To  further  this  night's  glad  solemnity ; 
And  lead  ye  where  ye  may  more  near  behold 
What  shallow-searching  Fame  hath  left  untold ; 
Which  I  full  oft  amidst  these  shades  alone 
Have  sat  to  wonder  at,  and  gaze  upon : 
For  know  by  lot  from  Jove  I  am  the  power 
Of  this  fair  wood,  and  live  in  oaken  bower, 


442  MILTON  S    POETICAL    WORKS. 

To  nurse  the  saplings  tall,  and  curl  the  grove 

With  ringlets  quaint,  and  wanton  windings  wove. 

And  all  my  plants  I  save  from  nightly  ill 

Of  noisome  winds,  and  blasting  vapors  chill : 

And  from  the  boughs  brush  off  the  evil  dew, 

And  heal  the  arms  of  thwarting  thunder  blue, 

Or  what  the  cross  dire-looking  planet  smites, 

Or  hurtful  worm  with  canker'd  venom  bites. 

"When  evening  gray  doth  rise,  I  fetch  my  round 

Over  the  mount,  and  all  this  hallow'd  ground, 

And  early,  ere  the  odorous  breath  of  morn 

Awakes  the  slumbering  leaves,  or  tassell'd  horn 

Shakes  the  high  thicket,  haste  I  all  about, 

Number  my  ranks,  and  visit  every  sprout 

With  puissant  words,  and  murmurs  made  to  bless; 

But  else  in  deep  of  night,  when  drowsiness 

Hath  lock'd  up  mortal  sense,  then  listen  I 

To  the  celestial  Sirens'  harmony, 

That  sit  upon  the  nine  enfolded  spheres, 

And  sing  to  those  that  hold  the  vital  shears, 

And  turn  the  adamantine  spindle  round, 

On  which  the  fate  of  gods  and  men  is  wound. 

Such  sweet  compulsion  doth  in  music  lie, 

To  lull  the  daughters  of  Necessity, 

And  keep  unsteady  Nature  to  her  law, 

And  the  low  world  in  measured  motion  draw 

After  the  heavenly  tune,  which  none  can  hear 

Of  human  mould  with  gross  unpurged  ear ; 

And  yet  such  music  worthiest  were  to  blaze 

The  peerless  height  of  her  immortal  praise, 

Whose  lustre  leads  us,  and  for  her  most  fit, 

If  my  inferior  hand  or  voice  could  hit 

Inimitable  sounds,  yet  as  we  go, 

Whate'er  the  skill  of  lesser  gods  can  show, 

I  will  assay,  her  worth  to  celebrate, 

And  so  attend  ye  toward  her  glittering  state ; 

Where  ye  may  all  that  are  of  noble  stem 

Approach,  and  kiss  her  sacred  vesture's  hem. 

SONG  II. 

O'er  the  smooth  enamell'd  green, 
Where  no  print  of  step  hath  been, 


POEMS    ON    SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  443 

Follow  me  as  I  sing, 

And  touch  the  warbled  string, 
Under  the  shady  roof 
Of  branching  elm  star-proof. 

Follow  me, 

I  will  bring  you  where  she  sits, 
Clad  in  splendor  as  befits 

Her  deity. 
Such  a  rural  queen 
All  Arcadia  hath  not  seen. 

SONG  III. 

Nymphs  and  shepherds  dance  no  more   * 

By  sandy  Ladon's  lilied  banks, 
On  old  Lycaous  or  Cyllene  hoar 

Trip  no  more  in  twilight  ranks, 
Though  Erymanth  your  loss  deplore, 

A  better  soil  shall  give  ye  thanks. 
From  the  stony  Maanalus 
Bring  your  flocks,  and  live  with  us  ; 
Here  ye  shall  have  greater  grace 
To  serve  the  lady  of  this  place. 
Though  Syrinx  your  Pan's  mistress  were, 
Yet  Syrinx  well  might  wait  on  her. 

Such  a  rural  queen 

All  Arcadia  hath  not  seen. 


XVI. 

COM  US. 

A.  MASK,  PRESENTED   AT  LUDLOW  CASTLE,    1634,  BEFORE  THE  EARL 
OF  BRIDGEWATER,    THEN  PRESIDENT  OF  WALES. 


THE  PERSONS. 


THE  ATTENDANT  SPIRIT, 
AFTERWARDS  IN  THE 
HABIT  OF  THYRSIS. 

COMUS,    WITH  HIS  CREW. 


THE  LADY. 
FIRST  BROTHER. 
SECOND  BROTHER. 
SABRINA,    THE  NYMPH. 


The  chief  persons  who  presented  were-— 

THE  LORD  BRACKLY. 

MR.    THOMAS   EGERTON,  HIS   BROTHER. 

THE  LADY  ALICE  EGERTON. 


[The  first  scene  discovers  a  wild  wood.     The  ATTENDANT  SPIBIT  descends 

and  enters.] 

ATTENDANT   SPIRIT. 

BEFORE  the  starry  threshold  of  Jove's  court 

My  mansion  is,  where  those  immortal  shapes 

Of  bright  aerial  spirits  live  insphered 

In  regions  mild  of  calm  and  serene  air, 

Above  the  smoke  and  stir  of  this  dim  spot, 

Which  men  call  Earth,  and  with  low-thoughted  care 

Confined,  and  pester'd  in  this  pinfold  here, 

Strive  to  keep  up  a  frail  and  feverish  being, 

Unmindful  of  the  crown  that  virtue  gives 

After  this  mortal  change  to  her  true  servants, 

Amongst  the  enthroned  gods  on  sainted  seats. 

Yet  some  there  be  that  by  due  steps  aspire 

To  lay  their  just  hands  on  that  golden  key, 

That  opes  the  palace  of  eternity : 

To  such  my  errand  is ;  and  but  for  such, 


POEMS    ON    SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  445 

I  would  not  soil  these  pure  ambrosial  weeds 
With  the  rank  vapors  of  this  sin-worn  mould. 

But  to  my  task.    Neptune,  besides  the  sway 
Of  every  salt  flood,  and  each  ebbing  stream, 
Took  in  by  lot  'twixt  high  and  nether  Jove 
Imperial  rule  of  all  the  sea-girt  isles, 
That  like  to  rich  and  various  gems  inlay 
The  unadorned  bosom  of  the  deep, 
Which  he,  to  grace  his  tributary  gods, 
By  course  commits  to  several  government, 
And  gives  them  leave  to  wear  their  sapphire  crowns. 
And  wield  their  little  tridents :  but  this  isle, 
The  greatest  and  the  best  of  all  the  main, 
He  quarters  to  his  blue-hair'd  deities ; 
And  all  this  tract  that  fronts  the  falling  sun 
A  noble  peer  of  mickle  trust  and  power 
Has  in  his  charge,  with  tempered  awe  to  guide, 
An  old  and  haughty  nation  proud  in  arms : 
Where  his  fair  offspring  nursed  in  princely  lore 
Are  coming  to  attend  their  father's  state, 
And  new-intrusted  sceptre ;  but  their  way 
Lies  through  the  perplex'd  paths  of  this  drear  wood, 
The  nodding  horror  of  whose  shady  brows 
Threats  the  forlorn  and  wandering  passenger ; 
And  here  their  tender  age  might  suffer  peril, 
But  that  by  quick  command  from  sovereign  Jove 
I  was  dispatch'd  for  their  defence  and  guard ; 
And  listen  why,  for  I  will  tell  you  now 
What  never  yet  was  heard  in  tale  or  song, 
From  old  or  modern  bard,  in  hall  or  bower. 

Bacchus,  that  first  from  out  the  purple  grape 
Crush'd  the  sweet  poison  of  misused  wine, 
After  the  Tuscan  mariners  transformed, 
Coasting  the  Tyrrhene  shore,  as  the  winds  listed, 
On  Circe's  island  fell :  (who  knows  not  Circe, 
The  daughter  of  the  sun,  whose  charmed  cup 
Whoever  tasted,  lost  his  upright  shape, 
And  downward  fell  into  a  grovelling  swine  ?) 
This  nymph  that  gazed  upon  his  clustering  locks, 
With  ivy  berries  wreathed,  and  his  blithe  youth, 
Had  by  him,  ere  he  parted  thence,  a  son 
Much  like  his  father,  but  his  mother  more, 
Whom  therefore  she  brought  up,  and  Comus  named, 

38 


446  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Who,  ripe  and  frolic  of  his  full  grown  age. 

Roving  the  Celtic  and  Iberian  fields, 

At  last  betakes  him  to  this  ominous  wood, 

And  in  thick  shelter  of  black  shades  imbower'd, 

Excels  his  mother  at  her  mighty  art, 

Offering  to  every  weary  traveller 

His  orient  liquor  in  a  crystal  glass, 

To  quench  the  drouth  of  Pho3bus ;  which,  as  they  taste, 

(For  most  do  taste  through  fond  intemperate  thirst,) 

Soon  as  the  potion  works,  their  human  countenance, 

The  express  resemblance  of  the  gods,  is  changed 

Into  some  brutish  form  of  wolf,  or  bear, 

Or  ounce,  or  tiger,  hog,  or  bearded  goat, 

All  other  parts  remaining  as  they  were ; 

And  they,  so  perfect  is  their  misery, 

Not  once  perceive  their  foul  disfigurement, 

But  boast  themselves  more  comely  than  before, 

And  all  their  friends  and  native  home  forget, 

To  roll  with  pleasure  in  a  sensual  sty. 

Therefore  when  any  favor'd  of  high  Jove 

Chances  to  pass  through  this  adventurous  glade, 

Swift  as  the  sparkle  of  a  glancing  star 

I  shoot  from  Heaven,  to  give  him  safe  convoy, 

As  now  I  do :  but  first  I  must  put  off 

These  my  sky  robes  spun  out  of  Iris'  woof, 

And  take  the  weeds  and  likeness  of  a  swain, 

That  to  the  service  of  this  house  belongs, 

Who  with  his  soft  pipe,  and  smooth-dittied  song, 

"Well  knows  to  still  the  wild  winds  when  they  roar, 

And  hush  the  waving  woods,  nor  of  less  faith, 

And  in  this  office  of  his  mountain  watch, 

Likeliest,  and  nearest  to  the  present  aid 

Of  this  occasion.     But  I  hear  the  tread 

Of  hateful  steps :  I  must  be  viewless  now. 

[CoMUS  enters  with  a  charming  rod  in  one  hand,  his  glass  in  the  other ,  witf 
him  a  rout  of  monsters,  headed  like  sundry  sorts  of  wild  beasta,  but  other 
wise  like  men  and  women,  their  apparel  glistering;  they  come  in  makir? 
a  riotous  and  unruly  noise,  with  torches  in  their  hands.] 

COMUS. 

The  star  that  bids  the  shepherd  fold, 
Now  the  top  of  Heaven  doth  hold, 
And  the  gilded  car  of  day 


) 
t         i 

>  ,  .  • 


pert  faeries    and  the   dapper  elves. 
By  dimpled  brook  and  foimtain  Inrim, 
The  wood-nymphs,  deck'd  -with  daisies  trim, 
Uieir  .vakes  cui 


44 S  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

The  nice  morn  on  the  Indian  steep 

From  her  cabin  loophole  peep, 

And  to  the  tell-tale  sun  descry 

Our  concealed  solemnity. 

Come,  knit  hands,  and  beat  the  ground 

In  a  light  fantastic  round. 

Tlie  Measure. 

Break  off,  break  off,  I  feel  the  different  pace 

Of  some  chaste  footing  near  about  this  ground. 

Run  to  your  shrouds,  within  these  brakes  and  trees ; 

Our  number  may  affright :  some  virgin  sure 

(For  so  I  can  distinguish  by  mine  art) 

Benighted  in  these  woods.    Now  to  my  charms, 

And  to  my  wily  trains ;  I  shall  ere  long 

Be  well  stock'd  with  as  fair  a  herd  as  grazed 

About  my  mother  Circe.     Thus  I  hurl 

]\Iy  dazzling  spells  into  the  spongy  air. 

Of  power  to  cheat  the  eye  with  blear  illusion, 

And  give  it  false  presentments,  lest  the  place 

And  my  quaint  habits  breed  astonishment, 

And  put  the  damsel  to  suspicious  flight, 

Which  must  not  be,  for  that's  against  my  course ; 

I,  under  fair  pretence  of  friendly  ends, 

And  well-placed  words  of  glozing  courtesy 

Baited  with  reasons  not  unplausible, 

Wind  me  into  the  easy-hearted  man, 

And  hug  him  into  snares.    When  once  her  eye 

Hath  met  the  virtue  of  this  magic  dust, 

I  shall  appear  some  harmless  villager, 

Whom  thrift  keeps  up  about  his  country  gear. 

But  here  she  comes,  I  fairly  step  aside, 

And  hearken,  if  I  may,  her  business  here. 

[The  LADY  enters.] 

This  way  the  noise  was,  if  mine  ear  be  true, 
My  best  guide  now ;  methought  it  was  the  sound 
Of  riot  and  ill-managed  merriment, 
Such  as  the  jocund  flute  or  gamesome  pipe 
Stirs  up  amongst  the  loose,  unlettered  hinds, 
When  for  their  teeming  flocks,  and  granges  full, 
In  wanton  dance  they  praise  the  bounteous  Pan, 
And  thank  the  gods  amiss.    I  should  be  loth 


POEMS    OX    SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  41& 

To  meet  the  rudeness  and  swill' d  insolence 

Of  such  late  wassailers :  yet  oh,  where  else 

Shall  I  inform  my  unacquainted  feet 

In  the  blind  mazes  of  this  tangled  wood  ? 

My  brothers,  when  they  saw  me  wearied  out 

With  this  long  way,  resolving  here  to  lodge 

Under  the  spreading  favor  of  these  pines, 

Step'd,  as  they  said,  to  the  next  thicket  side 

To  bring  me  berries,  or  such  cooling  fruit 

As  the  kind,  hospitable  woods  provide. 

They  left  me  then,  when  the  gray-hooded  even, 

Like  a  sad  votarist  in  palmer's  weed, 

Kose  from  the  hindmost  wheels  of  Phoebus'  wain. 

But  where  they  are,  and  why  they  came  not  back, 

Is  now  the  labor  of  my  thoughts :  'tis  likeliest 

They  had  engaged  their  wandering  steps  too  far, 

And  envious  darkness,  ere  they  could  return, 

Had  stole  them  from  me ;  else,  O  thievish  Night, 

Why  shouldst  thou,  but  for  some  felonious  end, 

In  thy  dark  lantern  thus  close  up  the  stars, 

That  nature  hung  in  Heaven,  and  fill'd  their  lamps 

With  everlasting  oil,  to  give  due  light 

To  the  misled  and  lonely  traveller  ? 

This  is  the  place,  as  well  as  I  may  guess, 

Whence  even  now  the  tumult  of  loud  mirth 

Was  rife,  and  perfect  in  my  listening  ear, 

Yet  naught  but  single  darkness  do  I  find. 

What  might  this  be  ?    A  thousand  fantasies 

Begin  to  throng  into  my  memory, 

Of  calling  shapes,  and  beckoning  shadows  dire, 

And  airy  tongues,  that  syllable  men's  names 

On  sands,  and  shores,  and  desert  wildernesses. 

These  thoughts  may  startle  well,  but  not  astound 

The  virtuous  mind,  that  ever  walks  attended 

By  a  strong  siding  champion,  conscience. 

0  welcome,  pure-eyed  Faith,  white-handed  Hope, 
Thou  hovering  angel  girt  with  golden  wings, 
And  thou  unblemish'd  form  of  Chastity ; 

1  see  ye  visibly,  and  now  believe 

That  he,  the  Supreme  Good,  to  whom  all  things  ill 
Are  but  as  slavish  officers  of  vengeance, 
Would  send  a  glistering  guardian,  if  need  were, 
To  keep  my  life  and  honor  unassail'd. 


450  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Was  I  deceived,  or  did  a  sable  cloud 
Turn  forth  her  silver  lining  on  the  night  ? 
I  did  not  err ;  there  does  a  sable  cloud 
Turn  forth  her  silver  lining  on  the  night, 
And  casts  a  gleam  over  this  tufted  grove. 
I  cannot  halloo  to  nay  brothers,  but 
Such  noise  as  I  can  make  to  be  heard  farthest 
I'll  venture,  for  my  new-enliven'd  spirits 
Prompt. me;  and  they  perhaps  are  not  far  off. 

Song. 

Sweet  Echo,  sweetest  nymph,  that  liv'st  unseen 

Within  thy  airy  shell, 
By  slow  Meander's  margent  green, 
And  in  the  violet-embroider'd  vale, 

Where  the  love-lorn  nightingale 
Nightly  to  thee  her  sad  song  mourneth  well ; 
Canst  thou  not  tell  me  of  a  gentle  pair 
That  likest  thy  Narcissus  are  ? 

O  if  thou  have 
Hid  them  in  some  flowery  cave, 

Tell  me  but  where, 

Sweet  queen  of  parley,  daughter  of  the  sphere, 
So  mayst  thou  be  translated  to  the  skies, 
And  give  resounding  grace  to  all  Heaven's  harmonies. 

COMUS. 

Can  any  mortal  mixture  of  earth's  mould 
Breathe  such  divine  enchanting  ravishment  ? 
Sure  something  holy  lodges  in  that  breast, 
And  with  these  raptures  moves  the  vocal  air 
To  testify  his  hidden  residence : 
How  sweetly  did  they  float  upon  the  wings 
Qf  silence,  through  the  empty- vaulted  night, 
At  every  fall  smoothing  the  raven  down 
Of  darkness  till  it  smiled  I     I  have  oft  heard 
My  mother  Circe  with  the  Sirens  three, 
Amidst  the  flowery-kirtled  Naiades 
Culling  their  potent  herbs,  and  baleful  drugs, 
Who  as  they  sung  would  take  the  prison'd  soul, 
And  lap  it  in  Elysium ;  Scylla  wept, 
And  chid  her  barking  waves  into  attention, 
And  fell  Charybdis  murmur'd  soft  applause ; 


POEMS    OX    SEVERAL    OCCASIONS  151 

Yet  they  in  pleasing  slumber  lull'd  the  sense, 

And  in  sweet  madness  robb'd  it  of  itself, 

But  such  a  sacred  and  home-felt  delight, 

Such  sober  certainty  of  waking  bliss, 

I  never  heard  till  now.    I'll  speak  to  her, 

And  she  shall  be  my  queen.    Hail,  foreign  wonder, 

Whom  certain  these  rough  shades  did  never  breed, 

Unless  the  goddess  that  in  rural  shrine 

Dwell'st  here  with  Pan,  or  Sylvan,  by  blest  song 

Forbidding  every  bleak  unkindly  fog 

To  touch  the  prosperous  growth  of  this  tall  wood. 

LADY. 

Nay,  gentle  shepherd,  ill  is  lost  that  praise 
That  is  addressed  to  unattending  ears ; 
Not  any  boast  of  skill,  but  extreme  shift 
How  to  regain  my  severed  company, 
Compell'd  me  to  awake  the  courteous  Echo 
To  give  me  answer  from  her  mossy  couch. 

COMUS. 
What  chance,  good  lady,  hath  bereft  you  thus  ? 

LADY. 

Dim  darkness,  and  this  leafy  labyrinth. 

COMUS. 
Could  that  divide  you  from  near-ushering  guides  ? 

LADY. 

They  left  me  weary  on  a  grassy  turf. 

COMUS. 
By  falsehood,  or  discourtesy,  or  why  ? 

LADY. 

To  seek  i'  the  valley  some  cool  friendly  spring. 

COMUS. 
And  left  your  fair  side  all  unguarded,  lady? 

LADY. 

They  were  but  twain,  and  purposed  quick  return. 

COMUS. 
Perhaps  forestalling  night  prevented  them. 

LADY. 

How  easy  my  misfortune  is  to  hit ! 


452  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

OOMU8. 

Imports  their  loss,  beside  the  Dresent  need 

LADY. 

No  less  than  if  I  should  my  brothers  lose. 

COMTTS. 
Were  they  of  manly  prime,  or  youthful  bloom  ? 

LADY. 

As  smooth  as  Hebe's  their  unrazor'd  lips. 
COMUS. 

Two  such  I  saw,  what  time  the  labcr'd  ox 
In  his  loose  traces  from  the  furrow  came, 
And  the  swinkt  hedger  at  his  supper  sat  ; 
I  saw  them  under  a  green  mantling  vine 
That  crawls  along  the  side  of  yon  small  hill, 
Plucking  ripe  clusters  from  the  tender  shoots ; 
Their  port  was  more  than  human,  as  they  stood : 
I  took  it  for  a  fairy  vision 
Of  some  gay  creatures  of  the  element, 
That  in  the  colors  of  the  rainbow  live, 
And  play  i7  the  plighted  clouds.    I  was  awe-struck, 
And  as  I  pass'd,  I  worshipped ;  if  those  you  seek, 
It  were  a  journey  like  the  path  to  Heaven, 
To  help  you  find  them. 

LADY. 

Gentle  villager, 
What  readiest  way  would  bring  me  to  that  place  ? 

OOMTTS. 

Due  west  it  rises  from  this  shrubby  point. 

LADY. 

To  find  out  that,  good  shepherd,  I  suppose, 
In  such  a  scant  allowance  of  star-light, 
Would  overtask  the  best  land-pilot's  art, 
Without  the  sure  guess  of  well-practised  feet. 

COMUS. 

I  know  each  lane,  and  every  alley  green, 
Dingle,  or  bushy  dell  of  this  wild  wood, 
And  every  bosky  bourn  from  side  to  side, 
My  daily  walks  and  ancient  neighborhood ; 


POEMS    ON    SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  453 

And  if  your  stray  attendance  be  yet  lodged, 
Or  shroud  within  these  limits,  I  shall  know 
Ere  morrow  wake,  or  the  low-roosted  lark 
From  her  thatch'd  pallet  rouse ;  if  otherwise, 
I  can  conduct  you,  lady,  to  a  low 
But  loyal  cottage,  where  you  may  be  safe 
Till  further  quest. 

LADT. 

Shepherd,  I  take  thy  word, 
And  trust  thy  honest  offer'd  courtesy, 
Which  oft  is  sooner  found  in  lowly  sheds 
With  smoky  rafters,  than  in  tapestry  halls 
And  courts  of  princes,  where  it  first  was  named, 
And  yet  is  most  pretended.    In  a  place 
Less  warranted  than  this,  or  less  secure, 
I  cannot  be,  that  I  should  fear  to  change  it. 
Eye  me,  blest  Providence,  and  square  my  trial 
To  my  proportion'd  strength.     Shepherd,  lead  on, 

[The  ftvo  BROTHERS.] 
ELDER   BEOTHEE. 

Unmuffle,  ye  faint  stars,  and  thou  fair  moon, 
That  wont'st  to  love  the  traveller's  benizon, 
Stoop  thy  pale  visage  through  an  amber  cloud, 
And  disinherit  Chaos,  that  reigns  here 
In  double  night  of  darkness  and  of  shades ; 
Or  if  your  influence  be  quite  damm'd  up 
With  blaek  usurping  mists,  some  gentle  taper, 
Though  a  rush-candle  from  the  wicker  hole 
Of  some  clay  habitation,  visit  us 
With  thy  long  levell'd  rule  of  streaming  light, 
And  thou  shalt  be'our  star  of  Arcady, 
Or  Tyrian  cynosure. 

SECOND    BEOTHEE. 

Or  if  our  eyes 

Be  barr'd  that  happiness,  might  we  but  hear 
The  folded  flocks  penn'd  in  their  wattled  cotes, 
Or  sound  of  pastoral  reed  with  oaten  stops, 
Or  whistle  from  the  lodge,  or  village  cock 
Count  the  night-watches  to  his  feathery  dames, 
'Twould  be  some  solace  yet,  some  little  cheering 
In  this  close  dungeon  of  innumerous  boughs. 


454  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

But  oh !  that  hapless  virgin,  our  lost  sister, 
Where  may  she  wander  now,  whither  betake  her 
From  the  chill  dew,  amongst  rude  burrs  and  thistles  ? 
Perhaps  some  cold  bank  is  her  bolster  now, 
Or  'gainst  the  rugged  bark  of  some  broad  elm 
Leans  her  unpillow'd  head,  fraught  with  sad  fears. 
What,  if  in  wild  amazement  and  affright, 
Or,  while  we  speak,  within  the  direful  grasp 
Of  savage  hunger,  or  of  savage  heat  ? 

ELDER   BROTHER. 

Peace,  brother,  be  not  over-exquisite 
To  cast  the  fashion  of  uncertain  evils ; 
For  grant  they  be  so,  while  they  rest  unknown, 
What  need  a  man  forestall  his  date  of  grief, 
And  run  to  meet  what  he  would  most  avoid  ? 
Or  if  they  be  but  false  alarms  of  fear, 
How  bitter  is  such  self-delusion? 
I  do  not  think  my  sister  so  to  seek, 
Or  so  unprincipled  in  virtue's  book, 
And  the  sweet  peace  that  goodness  bosoms  ever, 
As  that  the  single  want  of  light  and  noise 
(Not  being  in  danger,  as  I  trust  she  is  not) 
Could  stir  the  constant  mood  of  her  calm  thoughts, 
And  put  them  into  misbecoming  plight. 
"Virtue  could  see  to  do  what  virtue  would 
By  her  own  radiant  light,  though  sun  and  moon 
Were  in  the  flat  sea  sunk.    And  wisdom's  self 
Oft  seeks  to  sweet  retired  solitude, 
Where  with  her  best  nurse,  contemplation, 
She  plumes  her  feathers,  and  lets  grow  her  wings, 
That  in  the  various  bustle  of  resort 
Were  all  too  ruffled,  and  sometimes  impair'd. 
He  that  has  light  within  his  own  clear  breast 
May  sit  V  the  centre,  and  enjoy  bright  day : 
But  he  that  hides  a  dark  soul,  and  foul  thoughts, 
Benighted  walks  under  the  midday  sun ; 
Himself  is  his  own  dungeon. 

SECOND   BROTHER. 

'Tis  most  true, 

That  musing  meditation  most  affects 
The  pensive  secrecy  of  desert  cell, 


POEMS    ON    SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  4o5 

Far  from  the  cheerful  haunt  of  men  and  herds, 
And  sits  as  safe  as  in  a  senate-house ; 
For  who  would  roh  a  hermit  of  his  weeds, 
His  few  hooks,  or  his  heads,  or  maple  dish, 
Or  do  his  gray  hairs  any  violence  ? 
But  heauty,  like  the  fair  Hesperian  tree 
Laden  with  blooming  gold,  hath  need  the  guard 
Of  dragon- watch  with  unenchanted  eye, 
To  save  her  blossoms,  and  defend  her  fruit 
From  the  rash  hand  of  bold  incontinence. 
You  may  as  well  spread  out  the  unsunn'd  heaps 
Of  miser's  treasure  by  an  outlaw's  den, 
And  tell  me  it  is  safe,  as  bid  me  hope 
Danger  will  wink  on  opportunity, 
And  let  a  single  helpless  maiden  pass 
Uninjured  in  this  wild  surrounding  waste. 
Of  night,  or  loneliness,  it  recks  me  not ; 
I  fear  the  dread  events  that  dog  them  both, 
Lest  some  ill-greeting  touch  attempt  the  person 
Of  our  unowned  sister. 

ELDER  BROTHER. 

I  do  not,  brother, 

Infer,  as  if  I  thought  my  sister's  state 
Secure  without  all  doubt  or  controversy : 
Yet  where  an  equal  poise  of  hope  and  fear 
Does  arbitrate  the  event,  my  nature  is 
That  I  incline  to  hope,  rather  than  fear, 
And  gladly  banish  squint  suspicion. 
My  sister  is  not  so  defenceless  left 
As  you  imagine :  she  has  a  hidden  strength 
Which  you  remember  not. 

SECOND   BROTHER. 

"What  hidden  strength, 
Unless  the  strength  of  Heaven,  if  you  mean  that  ? 

ELDER   BROTHER. 

I  mean  that,  too ;  but  yet  a  hidden  strength, 
"Which,  if  Heaven  gave  it,  may  be  term'd  her  own. 
'Tis  chastity,  my  brother,  chastity : 
She  that  has  that  is  clad  in  complete  steel, 
And  like  a  quiver'd  nymph  with  arrows  keen 


456  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

May  trace  huge  forests,  and  unharbor'd  heaths, 

Infamous  hills,  and  sandy  perilous  wilds, 

Where,  through  the  sacred  rays  of  chastity, 

No  savage,  fierce  bandit,  or  mountaineer 

Will  dare  to  soil  her  virgin  purity ; 

Yea  there,  where  very  desolation  dwells, 

By  grots  and  caverns  shagg'd  with  horrid  shades, 

She  may  pass  on  with  unblench'd  majesty, 

Be  it  not  done  in  pride,  or  in  presumption. 

Some  say  no  evil  thing  that  walks  by  night, 

In  fog,  or  fire,  by  lake,  or  moorish  fen, 

Blue  meagre  hag,  or  stubborn  unlaid  ghost, 

That  breaks  his  magic  chains  at  curfew  time, 

No  goblin,  or  swart  fairy  of  the  mine, 

Hath  hurtful  power  o'er  true  virginity. 

Do  ye  believe  me  yet,  or  shall  I  call 

Antiquity  from  the  old  schools  of  Greece 

To  testify  the  arms  of  chastity  ? 

Hence  had  the  huntress  Dian  her  dread  bow, 

Fair  silver-shafted  queen,  forever  chaste, 

Wherewith  she  tamed  the  brinded  lioness 

And  spotted  mountain  pard,  but  set  at  naught 

The  frivolous  bolt  of  Cupid ;  gods  and  men 

Fear'd  her  stern  frown,  and  she  was  queen  of  the  woods. 

What  was  that  snaky-headed  Gorgon  shield 

That  wise  Minerva  wore,  unconquer'd  virgin, 

Wherewith  she  freezed  her  foes  to  congeal' d  stone, 

But  rigid  looks  of  chaste  austerity, 

And  noble  grace  that  dash'd  brute  violence 

With  sudden  adoration  and  blank  awe  ? 

So  dear  to  Heaven  is  saintly  chastity, 

That  when  a  soul  is  found  sincerely  so, 

A  thousand  liveried  angels  lackey  her, 

Driving  far  off  each  thing  of  sin  and  guilt, 

And  in  clear  dream,  and  solemn  vision, 

Tell  her  of  things  that  no  gross  ear  can  hear, 

Till  oft  converse  with  heavenly  habitants 

Begin  to  cast  a  beam  on  the  outward  shape, 

The  unpolluted  temple  of  the  mind, 

And  turns  it  by  degrees  to  the  souPs  essence, 

Till  all  be  made  immortal ;  but  when  lust, 

By  unchaste  looks,  loose  gestures,  and  foul  talk, 

But  most  by  lew'd  and  lavish  act  of  sin, 


POEMS    ON   SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  457 

Lets  in  defilement  to  the  inward  parts, 

The  soul  grows  clotted  by  contagion, 

Imbodies,  and  imbrutes,  till  she  quite  lose 

The  divine  property  of  her  first  being. 

Such  are  those  thick  and  gloomy  shadows  damp 

Oft  seen  in  charnel  vaults,  and  sepulchres, 

Lingering,  and  sitting  by  a  new-made  grave, 

As  loth  to  leave  the  body  that  it  loved, 

And  link'd  itself  by  carnal  sensuality 

To  a  degenerate  and  degraded  state. 

SECOND   BKOTHEE. 

How  charming  is  divine  philosophy ! 
Not  harsh,  and  crabbed,  as  dull  fools  suppose, 
But  musical  as  is  Apollo's  lute, 
And  a  perpetual  feast  of  nectar' d  sweets, 
"Where  no  crude  surfeit  reigns. 

ELDER  BEOTHEE. 

List,  list,  I  hear 
Some  far-off  halloo  break  the  silent  air. 

SECOND   BEOTHEE. 

Methought  so  too  ;  what  should  it  be  ? 

ELDEE  BEOTHEE. 

For  certain, 

Either  some  one  like  us,  night-founder'd  here, 
Or  else  some  neighbor  woodman,  or,  at  worst, 
Some  roving  robber  calling  to  his  fellows. 

SECOND  BEOTHEE. 

Heaven  keep  my  sister !     Again,  again,  and  near ; 
Best  draw,  and  stand  upon  our  guard. 

ELDEE   BEOTHEE. 

I'll  halloo; 

If  he  be  friendly,  he  comes  well ;  if  not, 
Defence  is  a  good  cause,  and  Heaven  be  for  us. 

[The  ATTENDANT  SPIRIT,  habited  like  a  shepherd.] 

That  halloo  I  should  know  ;  what  are  you  ?  speak ; 
Come  not  too  near,  you  %11  on  iron  stakes  else. 

89 


458  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

SPIRIT. 

What  voice  is  that  ?  my  young  lord  ?  speak  again. 

SECOND   BROTHER. 

0  brother,  'tis  ray  father's  shepherd,  sure. 

ELDER   BROTHER. 

Thyrsis  ?  whose  artful  strains  have  oft  delay'd 
The  huddling  brook  to  hear  his  madrigal, 
And  sweeten'd  every  musk-rose  of  the  dale. 
How  cam'st  thou  here,  good  swain  ?  hath  any  ram 
Slipt  from  the  fold,  or  young  kid  lost  his  dam, 
Or  straggling  wether  the  pent  flock  forsook  ? 
How  couldst  thou  find  this  dark  sequestered  nook  ? 

SPIRIT. 

O  my  loved  master's  heir,  and  his  next  joy, 
I  came  not  here  on  such  a  trivial  toy 
As  a  stray'd  ewe,  or  to  pursue  the  stealth 
Of  pilfering  wolf;  not  all  the  fleecy  wealth 
That  doth  enrich  these  downs  is  worth  a  thought 
To  this  my  errand,  and  the  care  It  brought. 
But  oh,  my  virgin  lady,  where  is  she? 
How  chance  she  is  not  in  your  company  ? 

ELDER  BROTHER. 

To  tell  thee  sadly,  shepherd,  without  blame, 
Or  our  neglect,  we  lost  her  as  we  came. 

SPIRIT. 
Ay  me  unhappy !  then  my  fears  are  true. 

ELDER  BROTHER. 

What  fears,  good  Thyrsis  ?    Prithee  briefly  show. 

SPIRIT. 

I'll  tell  ye ;  'tis  not  vain  or  fabulous 
(Though  so  esteem'd  by  shallow  ignorance) 
What  the  sage  poets,  taught  by  the  heavenly  muse, 
Storied  of  old  in  high  immortal  verse, 
Of  dire  chimeras  and  enchanted  isles, 
And  rifted  rocks  whose  entrance  leads  to  Hell : 


POEMS    ON    SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  459 

For  such  there  be,  but  unbelief  is  blind. 

"Within  the  navel  of  this  hideous  wood, 
Immured  in  cypress  shades,  a  sorcerer  dwells, 
Of  Bacchus  and  of  Circe  born,  great  Comus, 
Deep  skill'd  in  all  his  mother's  witcheries, 
And  here  to  every  thirsty  wanderer 
By  sly  enticement  gives  his  baneful  cup, 
With  many  murmurs  mix'd,  whose  pleasing  poison 
The  visage  quite  transforms  of  him  that  drinks. 
And  the  inglorious  likeness  of  a  beast 
Fixes  instead,  unmoulding  reason's  mintage 
Character'd  in  the  face ;  this  have  I  learnt 
Tending  my  flocks  hard  by  i'  the  hilly  crofts, 
That  brow  this  bottom  glade,  whence  night  by  night 
He  and  his  monstrous  rout  are  heard  to  howl 
Like  stabled  wolves,  or  tigers  at  their  prey, 
Doing  abhorred  rites  to  Hecate 
In  their  obscured  haunts  of  inmost  bowers. 
Yet  have  they  many  baits,  and  guileful  spells, 
To  inveigle  and  invite  the  unwary  sense 
Of  them  that  pass  unweeting  by  the  way. 
This  evening  late,  by  then  the  chewing  flocks* 
Had  ta'en  their  supper  on  the  savory  herb 
Of  knot-grass  dew-besprent,  and  were  in  fold, 
I  sat  me  down  to  watch  upon  a  bank 
"With  ivy  canopied,  and  interwove 
With  flaunting  honeysuckle,  and  began, 
Wrapt  in  a  pleasing  fit  of  melancholy, 
To  meditate  my  rural  minstrelsy, 
Till  fancy  had  her  fill ;  but  ere  a  close 
The  wonted  roar  was  up  amidst  the  woods, 
And  fill'd  the  air  with  barbarous  dissonance ; 
At  which  I  ceased,  and  listen'd  them  a  while, 
Till  an  unusual  stop  of  sudden  silence 
Gave  respite  to  the  drowsy-flighted  steeds, 
That  draw  the  litter  of  close-curtain'd  sleep ; 
At  last  a  soft  and  solemn  breathing  sound 
Kose  like  a  steam  of  rich  distill'd  perfumes, 
And  stole  upon  the  air,  that  even  Silence 
Was  took  ere  she  was  ware,  and  wish'd  she  might 
Deny  her  nature,  and  be  never  more,   * 
Still  to  be  so  displaced.    I  was  all  ear, 
And  took  in  strains  that  might  create  a  soul 


460  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Under  the  ribs  of  death :  but  oh,  ere  long 

Too  well  I  did  perceive  it  was  the  voice 

Of  my  most  honored  lady,  your  dear  sister. 

Amazed  I  stood,  harrow'd  with  grief  and  fear, 

And  oh,  poor  hapless  nightingale,  thought  I, 

How  sweet  thou  sing'st,  how  near  the  deadly  sna/e ! 

Then  down  the  lawns  I  ran  with  headlong  haste, 

Through  paths  and  turnings  often  trod  by  day, 

Till  guided  by  mine  ear  I  found  the  place, 

Where  that  damn'd  wizard  hid  in  sly  disguise 

(For  so  by  certain  signs  I  knew)  had  met 

Already,  ere.  my  best  speed  could  prevent. 

The  aidless  innocent  lady,  his  wish'd  prey,- 

Who  gently  ask'd  if  he  had  seen  such  two, 

Supposing  him  some  neighbor  villager. 

Longer  I  durst  not  stay,  but  soon  I  guess'd 

Ye  were  the  two  she  meant ;  with  that  I  sprung 

Into  swift  flight,:  till  I  had  found  you  here, 

But  further  know  I  not. 

SECOND  BKOTHEB. 

O  night  and  shades, 

How  are  ye  join'd  with  Hell  in  triple  knot, 
Against  the  unarm'd  weakness  of  one  virgin 
Alone,  and  helpless !     Is  this  the  confidence 
You  gave  me,  brother  ? 

ELDER  BROTHER. 

Yes,  and  keep  it  still, 
Lean  on  it  safely ;  not  a  period 
Shall  be  unsaid  for  me :  against  the  threats 
Of  malice  or  of  sorcery,  or  that  power 
Which  erring  men  call  Chance,  this  I  hold  firm, 
Virtue  may  be  assail'd,  but  never  hurt, 
Surprised  by  unjust  force,  but  not  enthralled ; 
Yea,  even  that  which  mischief  meant  most  harm, 
Shall  in  the  happy  trial  prove  most  glory : 
But  evil  on  itself  shall  back  recoil, 
And  mix  no  more  with  goodness,  when  at  last 
Gathered  like  scum,  and  settled  to  itself, 
It  shall  be  in  eternal  restless  change 
Self-fed,  and  self-consumed :  if  this  fail, 
The  pillar' d  firmament  is  rottenness, 


POEMS    ON    SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  461 

And  earth's  base  built  on  stubble.    But  come,  let's  on. 

Against  the  opposing  will  and  arm  of  Heaven 

May  never  this  just  sword  be  lifted  up ; 

But  for  that  damn'd  magician,  let  him  be  girt 

With  all  the  grisly  legions  that  troop 

Under  the  sooty  flag  of  Acheron, 

Harpies  and  Hydras,  or  all  the  monstrous  form 

'Twixt  Africa  and  Ind,  I'll  find  him  out, 

And  force  him  to  restore  his  purchase  back, 

Or  drag  him  by  the  curls  to  a  foul  death. 

Cursed  as  his  life. 

SPIRIT. 

Alas !  good  venturous  youth, 
I  love  thy  courage  yet,  and  bold  emprise ; 
But  here  thy  sword  can  do  thee  little  stead ; 
Far  other  arms,  and  other  weapons  must 
Be  those  that  quell  the  might  of  hellish  charms : 
He  with  his  bare  wand  can  unthread  thy  joints, 
And  crumble  all  thy  sinews. 

ELDER  BROTHER. 

Why  prithee,  shepherd, 

How  durst  thou  then  thyself  approach  so  near, 
As  to  make  this  relation? 

SPIRIT. 

Care  and  utmost  shifts 
How  to  secure  the  lady  from  surprisal, 
Brought  to  my  mind  a  certain  shepherd  lad, 
Of  small  regard  to  see  to,  yet  well  skill'd 
In  every  virtuous  plant  and  healing  herb, 
That  spreads  her  verdant  leaf  to  the  morning  ray : 
He  loved  me  well,  and  oft  would  beg  me  sing, 
Which  when  I  did,  he  on  the  tender  grass 
Would  sit,  and  hearken  even  to  ecstasy, 
And  in  requital  ope  his  leathern  scrip, 
And  show  me  simples  of  a  thousand  names, 
Telling  their  strange  and  vigorous  faculties : 
Amongst  the  rest  a  small  unsightly  root, 
But  of  divine  effect,  he  cull'd  me  out ; 
The  leaf  was  darkish,  and  had  prickles  on  it, 
But  in  another  country,  as  he  said, 


462  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Bore  a  bright  golden  flower,  but  not  in  this  soil : 

Unknown,  and  like  esteem'd,  and  the  dull  swain 

Treads  on  it  daily  with  his  clouted  shoon ; 

And  yet  more  medicinal  is  it  than  that  moly 

That  Hermes  once  to  wise  Ulysses  gave ; 

He  call'd  it  hajmony,  and  gave  it  me, 

And  bade  me  keep  it  as  of  sovereign  use 

'Gainst  all  enchantments,  mildew,  blast,  or  damp, 

Or  ghastly  furies'  apparition ; 

I  pursed  it  up,  but  little  reckoning  made. 

Till  now  that  this  extremity  compell'd : 

But  now  I  find  it  true ;  for  by  this  means 

I  knew  the  foul  enchanter,  though  disguised, 

Enter'd  the  very  lime-twigs  of  his  spells, 

And  yet  came  off:  if  you  have  this  about  you, 

(As  I  will  give  you  when  we  go,)  you  may 

Boldly  assault  the  necromancer's  hall ; 

Where  if  he  be,  with  dauntless  hardihood 

And  brandish'd  blade  rush  on  him,  break  his  glass, 

And  shed  the  luscious  liquor  on  the  ground, 

But  seize  his  wand ;  though  he  and  his  cursed  crew 

Fierce  sign  of  battle  make,  and  menace  high, 

Or  like  the  sons  of  Vulcan  vomit  smoke, 

Yet  will  they  soon  retire,  if  he  but  shrink. 

ELDER   BROTHER. 

Thyrsis,  lead  on  apace,  I'll  follow  thee, 
And  some  good  angel  bear  a  shield  before  us. 

The  scene  changes  to  a  stately  palace,  set  out  with  all  manner  of  delicious 
ness :  soft  music,  tables  spread  with  all  dainties,  COMUS  appears  with  his 
rabble,  and  the  LADY  set  in  an  enchanted  chair,  to  whom  he  offers  his 
glass,  which  she  puts  by,  and  goes  about  to  rise.] 

COMUS. 

Nay,  lady,  sit ;  if  I  but  wave  this  wand, 
Your  nerves  are  all  chain'd  up  in  alabaster, 
And  you  a  statue,  or  as  Daphne  was 
Root-bound,  that  fled  Apollo. 

LADY. 

Fool,  do  not  boast ; 

Thou  canst  not  touch  the  freedom  of  my  mind 
With  all  thy  charms,  although  this  corporal  rind 
Thou  hast  immanacled,  while  Heaven  sees  good. 


POEMS    ON    SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  403 


COMUS. 

Why  are  you  vex'd,  lady  ?  why  do  you  frown  ? 
Here  dwell  no  frowns  nor  anger ;  from  these  gates 
Sorrow  flies  far :  see,  here  be  all  the  pleasures 
That  fancy  can  beget  on  youthful  thoughts, 
When  the  fresh  blood  grows  lively,  and  returns 
Brisk  as  the  April  buds  in  primrose-season. 
And  first  behold  this  cordial  julep  here, 
That  flames  and  dances  in  his  crystal  bounds, 
With  spirits  of  balm  and  fragrant  syrups  mix'd. 
Not  that  Nepenthes,  which  the  wife  of  Thone 
In  Egypt  gave  to  Jove-born  Helena, 
Is  of  such  power  to  stir  up  joy  as  this, 
To  life  so  friendly,  or  so  cool  to  thirst. 
Why  should  you  be  so  cruel  to  yourself, 
And  to  those  dainty  limbs  which  nature  lent 
For  gentle  usage,  and  soft  delicacy  ? 
But  you  invert  the  covenants  of  her  trust, 
And  harshly  deal  like  an  ill-borrower 
With  that  which  you  received  on  other  terms, 
Scorning  the  unexempt  condition 
By  which  all  mortal  frailty  must  subsist, 
Refreshment  after  toil,  ease  after  pain, 
That  have  been  tired  all  day  without  repast, 
And  timely  rest  have  wanted;  but,  fair  virgin, 
This  will  restore  all  soon. 

LADY. 

'Twill  not,  false  traitor, 
Twill  not  restore  the  truth  and  honesty 
That  thou  hast  banish'd  from  thy  tongue  with  lies. 
Was  this  the  cottage  and  the  safe  abode 
Thou  told'st  me  of?     What  grim  aspects  are  these, 
These  ugly-headed  monsters  ?    Mercy  guard  me ! 
Hence  with  thy  brew'd  enchantments,  foul  deceiver  1 
Hast  thou  betray'd  my  credulous  innocence 
With  visor'd  falsehood,  and  base  forgery  ? 
And  wouldst  thou  seek  again  to  trap  me  here 
With  liquorish  baits  fit  to  ensnare  a  brute  ? 
Were  it  a  draught  for  Juno  when  she  banquets, 
I  would  not  taste  thy  treasonous  offer ;  none 
But  such  as  are  good  men  can  give  good  things, 


104  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

And  that  which  is  not  good,  is  not  delicious 
To  a  well-govern'd  and  wise  appetite. 

COMUS. 

0  foolishness  of  men !  that  lend  their  ears 
To  those  budge  doctors  of  the  Stoic  fur, 
And  fetch  their  precepts  from  the  Cynic  tub, 
Praising  the  lean  and  sallow  abstinence. 
Wherefore  did  Nature  pour  her  bounties  forth, 
With  such  a  full  and  unwith drawing  hand, 
Covering  the  earth  with  odors,  fruits,  and  flocks, 
Thronging  the  seas  with  spawn  innumerable, 
But  all  to  please  and  sate  the  curious  taste  ? 
And  set  to  work  millions  of  spinning  worms, 
That  in  their  green  shops  weave  the  smooth-hair'd  silk 
To  deck  her  sons,  and  that  no  corner  might 
Be  vacant  of  her  plenty,  in  her  own  loins 
She  hutch'd  the  all-worshipp'd  ore,  and  precious  gems. 
To  store  her  children  with :  if  all  the  world 
Should,  in  a  pet  of  temperance,  feed  on  pulse, 
Drink  the  clear  stream,  and  nothing  .wear  but  frieze, 
The  All-giver  would  be  unthankM,  would  be  unpraised, 
Not  half  his  riches  known,  and  yet  despised ; 
And  we  should  serve  him  as  a  grudging  master, 
As  a  penurious  niggard  of  his  wealth, 
And  live  like  Nature's  bastards,  not  her  sons, 
Who  would  be  quite  surcharged  with  her  own  weight, 
And  strangled  with  her  waste  fertility ;  [plumes, 

The  earth  cumber'd,  and  the  wing'd  air  dark'd  with 
The  herds  would  over-multitude  their  lords,          [monda 
The  sea  o'erfraught  would  swell,  and  the  unsought  dia- 
Would  so  emblaze  the  forehead  of  the  deep, 
And  so  bestud  with  stars,  that  they  below 
Would  grow  inured  to  light,  and  come  at  last 
To  gaze  upon  the  sun  with  shameless  brows. 
List,  lady,  be  not  coy,  and  be  not  cozen'd 
With  that  same  vaunted  name,  virginity. 
Beauty  is  Nature's  coin,  must  not  be  hoarded, 
But  must  be  current,  and  the  good  thereof 
Consists  in  mutual  and  partaken  bliss, 
Unsavory  in  the  enjoyment  of  itself; 
If  you  let  slip  time,  like  a  neglected  rose 
It  withers  on  the  stalk  with  languish'd  head. 


POEMS    OX    SEVERAL   OCCASIONS.  465 

Beauty  is  Nature's  brag,  and  must  be  shown 

In  courts,  at  feasts,  and  high  solemnities, 

"Where  most  may  wonder  at  the  workmanship : 

It  is  for  homely  features  to  keep  home, 

They  had  their  name  thence ;  coarse  complexions, 

And  cheeks  of  sorry  grain,  will  serve  to  ply 

The  sampler,  and  to  tease  the  housewife's  wool. 

What  need  a  vermeil-tinctured  lip  for  that, 

Love-darting  eyes,  or  tresses  like  the  morn  ? 

There  was  another  meaning  in  these  gifts, 

Think  what,  and  be  advised ;  you  are  but  youog  yet. 

LADT. 

I  had  not  thought  to  have  unlock' d  my  lips 
In  this  unhallow'd  air,  but  that  this  juggler 
Would  think  to  charm  my  judgment,  as  mine  eyes, 
Obtruding  false  rules  prankt  in  Reason's  garb. 
I  hate  when  Vice  can  bolt  her  arguments, 
And  Virtue  has  no  tongue  to  check  her  pride. 
Impostor,  do  not  charge  most  innocent  Nature, 
As  if  she  would  her  children  should  be  riotous 
With  her  abundance ;  she,  good  cateress, 
Means  her  provision  only  to  the  good, 
That  live  according  to  her  sober  laws, 
And  holy  dictate  of  spare  temperance : 
If  every  just  man,  that  now  pines  with  want, 
Had  but  a  moderate  and  beseeming  share 
Of  that  which  lewdly-pamper'd  luxury 
Now  heaps  upon  some  few  with  vast  excess, 
Nature's  full  blessings  would  be  well  dispensed 
In  unsuperfluous  even  proportion, 
And  she  no  whit  encumber'd  with  her  store ; 
And  then  the  Giver  would  be  better  thank'd, 
His  praise  due  paid ;  for  swinish  gluttony 
Ne'er  looks  to  Heaven  amidst  his  gorgeous  feast, 
But  with  besotted  base  ingratitude 
Crams,  and  blasphemes  his  Feeder.     Shall  I  go  on? 
Or  have  I  said  enough  ?    To  him  that  dares 
Arm  his  profane  tongue  with  contemptuous  words 
Against  the  sun-clad  power  of  chastity, 
Fain  would  I  something  say,  yet  to  what  end  ? 
Thou  hast  nor  ear  nor  soul  to  apprehend 
The  sublime  notion,  and  high  mystery, 


466  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

That  must  be  utter'd  to  unfold  the  sage 

And  serious  doctrine  of  virginity ; 

And  thou  art  worthy  that  thou  shouldst  not  know 

More  happiness  than  this  thy  present  lot. 

Enjoy  your  dear  wit,  and  gay  rhetoric, 

That  hath  so  well  been  taught  her  dazzling  fence, 

Thou  art  not  fit  to  hear  thyself  convinced ; 

Yet  should  I  try,  the  uncontrolled  worth 

Of  this  pure  cause  would  kindle  my  rapt  spirits 

To  such  a  flame  of  sacred  vehemence, 

That  dumb  things  would  be  moved  to  sympathize, 

And  the  brute  earth  would  lend  her  nerves,  and  shake, 

Till  all  thy  magic  structures,  rear'd  so  high, 

Were  shattered  into  heaps  o'er  thy  false  head. 

COMUS. 

She  fables  not :  I  feel  that  I  do  fear 
Her  words  set  off  by  some  superior  power ; 
And  though  not  mortal,  yet  a  cold  shuddering  dew 
Dips  me  all  o'er,  as  when  the  wrath  of  Jove 
Speaks  thunder,  and  the  chains  of  Erebus, 
To  some  of  Satan's  crew.    I  must  dissemble, 
And  try  her  yet  more  strongly.     Come,  no  more, 
This  is  mere  moral  babble,  and  direct 
Against  the  canon  laws  of  our  foundation ; 
I  must  not  suffer  this,  yet  'tis  but  the  lees. 
And  settlings  of  a  melancholy  blood : 
But  this  will  cure  ah1  straight,  one  sip  of  this 
"Will  bathe  the  drooping  spirits  in  delight 
Beyond  the  bliss  of  dreams.    Be  wise,  and  taste. 

"The  BROTHERS  rush  in  with  swords  drawn,  wrest  his  glass  out  of  his  bane, 
and  break  it  against  the  ground :  his  rout  make  sign  of  resistance,  but  aif 
all  driven  in.  The  ATTENDANT  SPIRIT  comes  in.] 

SPIRIT. 

What,  have  you  let  the  false  enchanter  'scape? 
Oh,  ye  mistook,  ye  should  have  snatch'd  his  wand 
And  bound  him  fast ;  without  his  rod  reversed, 
And  backward  mutters  of  dissevering  power, 
We  cannot  free  the  lady  that  sits  here 
In  stony  fetters  fix'd,  and  motionless : 
Yet  stay,  be  not  disturb'd ;  now  I  bethink  me, 
Some  other  means  I  have  which  may  be  used. 


POEMS    ON    SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  467 

Which  once  of  Melibceus  old  I  learnt, 

The  soothest  shepherd  that  e'er  piped  on  plains. 

There  is  a  gentle  nymph  not  far  from  hence, 
That  with  moist  curb  sways  the  smooth  Severn  stream, 
Sabrina  is  her  name,  a  virgin  pure ; 
Whilorne  she  was  the  daughter  of  Locrine, 
That  had  the  sceptre  from  his  father  Brute. 
She,  guiltless  damsel,  flying  the  mad  pursuit 
Of  her  enraged  stepdame  Guendolen, 
Commended  her  fair  innocence  to  the  flood, 
That  stay'd  her  flight  with  his  cross-flowing  course. 
The  water-nymphs  that  in  the  bottom  play'd, 
Held  up  their  pearled  wrists  and  took  her  in, 
Bearing  her  straight  to  aged  Nereus'  hall, 
Who  piteous  of  her  woes  rear'd  her  lank  head, 
And  gave  her  to  his  daughters  to  imbathe 
In  nectar'd  lavers  strew'd  with  asphodel, 
And  through  the  porch  and  inlet  of  each  sense  • 
Dropt  in  ambrosial  oils  till  she  revived, 
And  underwent  a  quick  immortal  change, 
Made  goddess  of  the  river ;  still  she  retains 
Her  maiden  gentleness,  and  oft  at  eve 
Visits  the  herds  along  the  twilight  meadows. 
Helping  all  urchin  blasts,  and  ill-luck  signs 
That  the  shrewd  meddling  elf  delights  to  make, 
Which  she  with  precious  vial'd  liquors  heals : 
For  which  the  shepherds  at  their  festivals 
Carol  her  goodness  loud  in  rustic  lays, 
And  throw  sweet  garland  wreaths  into  her  stream 
Of  pansies,  pinks,  and  gaudy  daffodils. 
And,  as  the  old  swain  said,  she  can  unlock 
The  clasping  charm,  and  thaw  the  numbing  spell, 
If  she  be  right  invoked  in  warbled  song ; 
For  maidenhood  she  loves,  and  will  be  swift 
To  aid  a  virgin,  such  as  was  herself, 
In  hard-besetting  need :  this  will  I  try, 
And  add  the  power  of  some  adjuring  verse. 

Song. 
"Sabrina  fair, 

Listen  where  thou  art  sitting 
Under  the  glassy,  cool,  translucent  wave, 

In  twisted  braid  of  lilies  knitting 


408  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

The  loose  train  of  thy  amber-dropping  hair; 

Listen  for  dear  honor's  sake, 

Goddess  of  the  silver  lake, 
Listen,  and  save. 
Listen,  and  appear  to  us 
In  name  of  great  Oceanus, 
By  the  earth-shaking  Neptune's  mace, 
And  Tethys'  grave  majestic  pace, 
By  hoary  Nereus'  wrinkled  look, 
And  the  Carpathian  wizard's  hook, 
By  scaly  Triton's  winding  shell, 
And  old  soothsaying  Glaucus'  spell, 
By  Leucothea's  lovely  hands, 
And  her  son  that  rules  the  strands, 
By  Thetis'  tinsel-slipper'd  feet, 
And  the  songs  of  Sirens  sweet, 
By  dear  Parthenope's  dear  tomb, 
And  fair  Ligea's  golden  comb, 
Wherewith  she  sits  on  diamond  rocks, 
Sleeking  her  soft  alluring  locks, 
By  all  the  nymphs  that  nightly  dance 
Upon  thy  streams  with  wily  glance, 
Eise,  rise,  and  heave  thy  rosy  head 
From  thy  coral-paven  bed, 
And  bridle  in  thy  headlong  wave, 
Till  thou  our  summons  answer'd  have. 
Listen,  and  save. 

[9ABCQ7A  rises,  attended  by  water-nymphs,  and  sings.] 
SABEINA. 

By  the  rushy  fringed  bank, 

Where  grows  the  willow  and  the  osier  dank, 

My  sliding  chariot  stays, 
Thick  set  with  agate,  and  the  azure  sheen 
Of  turquoise  blue,  and  emerald  green, 

That  in  the  channel  strays ; 
Whilst  from  off  the  waters  fleet 
Thus  I  set  my  printless  feet 
O'er  the  cowslip's  velvet  head, 

That  bends  not  as  I  tread ; 
Gentle  swain,  at  thy  request 

I  am  here. 


POEMS    ON   SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  469 

SPIEIT. 

Goddess  dear, 

We  implore  thy  powerful  hand 
To  undo  the  charmed  band 
Of  true  virgin  here  distress'd, 
Through  the  force,  and  through  the  wile, 
Of  unbless'd  enchanter  vile. 

SABEINA. 

Shepherd,  'tis  my  office  best 
To  help  ensnared  chastity : 
Brightest  lady,  look  on  me ; 
Thus  I  sprinkle  on  thy  breast 
Drops  that  from  my  fountain  pure 
I  have  kept  of  precious  cure ; 
Thrice  upon  thy  finger's  tip, 
Thrice  upon  thy  rubied  lip  ; 
Next  this  marbled  venom'd  seat, 
Smear'd  with  gums  of  glutinous  heat, 
I  touch  with  chaste  palms  moist  and  cold : 
Now  the  spell  hath  lost  his  hold ; 
And  I  must  haste  ere  morning  hour 
To  wait  in  Amphitrite's  bower. 

[Sabrina  descends,  and  the  LADY  rises  out  of  her  seat.) 
SPIEIT. 

Virgin,  daughter  of  Locrine, 
Sprung  of  old  Anchises'  line, 
May  thy  brimmed  waves  for  this 
Their  full  tribute  never  miss 
From  a  thousand  petty  rills, 
That  tumble  down  the  snowy  hills : 
Summer  drouth,  or  singed  air 
Never  scorch  thy  tresses  fair, 
Nor  wet  October's  torrent  flood 
Thy  molten  crystal  fill  with  mud ; 
May  thy  billows  roll  ashore 
The  beryl,  and  the  golden  ore ; 
May  thy  lofty  head  be  crown'd 
"With  many  a  tower  and  terrace  round. 
And  here  and  there  thy  banks  upon 
With  groves  of  myrrh,  and  cinnamon. 
40 


470  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Cane,  lady,  while  Heaven  lends  us  grace, 
Let  us  fly  this  cursed  place, 
Lest  the  sorcerer  us  entice 
"With  some  other  new  device. 
Not  a  waste  or  needless  sound, 
Till  we  come  to  holier  ground ; 
I  shall  be  your  faithful  guide 
Through  this  gloomy  covert  wide, 
And  not  many  furlongs  thence 
Is  your  father's  residence, 
Where  this  night  are  met  in  state 
Many  a  friend  to  gratulate 
His  wish'd  presence,  and,  beside, 
All  the  swains  that  near  abide, 
"With  jigs  and  rural  dance  resort ; 
We  shall  catch  them  at  their  sport, 
And  our  sudden  coming  there 
Will  double  all  their  mirth  and  cheer : 
Come,  let  us  haste,  the  stars  grow  high, 
But  night  sits  monarch  yet  in  the  mid  sky. 


fThe  scene  changes,  presenting  Ludlow  Town  and  the  President's 
Castle ;  then  come  in  country  dancers ;  after  them  the  ATTENDANT 
SPIRIT,  with  the  two  BROTHERS  and  the  LADY.] 

Song. 

SPIRIT. 

Back,  shepherds,  back,  enough  your  play, 
Till  next  sunshine  holiday ; 
Here  be,  without  duck  or  nod, 
Other  trippings  to  be  trod 
Of  lighter  toes,  and  such  court  guise 
As  Mercury  did  first  devise 
With  the  mincing  Dryades 
On  the  lawns,  and  on  the  leas. 

[This  second  song  presents  them  to  their  Father  and  Mother.] 

IToble  lord,  and  lady  bright, 
I  have  brought  ye  new  delight ; 
Here  behold  so  goodly  grown 
Three  fair  branches  of  your  own ; 


POEMS    ON    SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  471 

Heaven  hath  timely  tried  their  youth, 
Their  faith,  their  patience,  and  their  truth, 
And  sent  them  here  through  hard  assays 
"With  a  crown  of  deathless  praise, 
To  triumph  in  victorious  dance 
O'er  sensual  folly  and  intemperance 

[The  dances  ended,  the  SPIBIT  epiloguisee.] 

To  the  ocean  now  I  fly, 
And  those  happy  climes  that  lie 
"Where  day  never  shuts  his  eye, 
Up  in  the  broad  fields  of  the  sky : 
There  I  suck  the  liquid  air 
All  amidst  the  gardens  fair 
Of  Hesperus,  and  his  daughters  three, 
That  sing  about  the  golden  tree : 
Along  the  crisped  shades  and  bowers 
Revels  the  spruce  and  jocund  Spring ; 
The  Graces,  and  the  rosy-bosoin'd  Hours, 
Thither  all  their  bounties  bring ; 
There  eternal  Summer  dwells, 
And  west  winds  with  musky  wing 
About  the  cedarn  alleys  fling 
Nard  and  cassia's  balmy  smells. 
Iris  there  with  humid  bow 
Waters  the  odorous  banks,  that  blow 
Flowers  of  more  mingled  hue 
Than  her  purfled  scarf  can  show, 
And  drenches  with  Elysian  dew 
(List,  mortals,  if  your  ears  be  true) 
Beds  of  hyacinth  and  roses, 
Where  young  Adonis  oft  reposes, 
Waxing  well  of  his  deep  wound 
In  slumber  soft,  and  on  the  ground 
Sadly  sits  the  Assyrian  queen ; 
But  far  above,  in  spangled  sheen, 
Celestial  Cupid,  her  famed  son,  advanced, 
Holds  his  dear  Psyche  sweet  entranced, 
After  her  wandering  labors  long, 
Till  free  consent  the  gods  among 
Make  her  his  eternal  bride, 
And  from  her  fair  unspotted  side 


4Y2  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Two  blissful  twins  are  to  be  born, 
Yonth  and  Joy ;  so  Jove  hath  sworn. 

But  now  my  task  is  smoothly  done, 
I  can  fly,  or  I  can  run 
Quickly  to  the  green  earth's  end, 
Where  the  bow'd  welkin  slow  doth  bend, 
And  from  thence  can  soar  as  soon 
To  the  corners  of  the  moon. 

Mortals  that  would  follow  me, 
Love  Virtue ;  she  alone  is  free, 
She  can  teach  ye  how  to  climb 
Higher  than  the  sphery  chime ; 
Or  if  Virtue  feeble  were, 
Heaven  itself  would  stoop  to  her. 


XVII. 
LYCIDAS. 

Lin  this  Monody  the  Author  bewails  a  learned  friend,  Mr.  fcdward  King, 
unfortunately  drowned  in  his  passage  from  Chester  on  the  Irish  seas, 
163T,  and  by  occasion  fortells  the  ruin  of  our  corrupted  clergy,  then  in 
their  height 

YET  once  more,  O  ye  laurels,  and  once  more  t 
Ye  myrtles  brown,  with  ivy  never  sere, 
I  come  to  pluck  your  berries  harsh  and  crude, 
And  with  forced  fingers  rude 
Shatter  your  leaves  before  the  mellowing  year. 
Bitter  constraint,  and  sad  occasion  dear, 
Compels  me  to  disturb  your  season  due : 
For  Lycidas  is  dead,  dead  ere  his  prime, 
Young  Lycidas,  and  hath  not  left  his  peer : 
Who  would  not  sing  for  Lycidas  ?    He  knew 
Himself  to  sing,  and  build  the  lofty  rhyme. 
He  must  not  float  upon  his  watery  bier 
Unwept,  and  welter  to  the  parching  wind, 
Without  the  meed  of  some  melodious  tear. 

Begin  then,  sisters  of  the  sacred  well, 
That  from  beneath  the  seat  of  Jove  doth  spring ; 
Begin,  and  somewhat  loudly  sweep  the  string. 
Hence  with  denial  vain,  and  coy  excuse, 
So  may  some  gentle  Muse 


•  •  ' 

c  «    •  » 


1 

mourn. 


73 


I 

/ 


POEMS    ON    SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  4*75 

Like  to  that  sanguine  flower  inscribed  with  woe 
"  Ah !  who  hath  reft,"  quoth  he,  "my  dearest  pledge?'7 
Last  came,  and  last  did  go, 
The  pilot  of  the  Galilean  lake, 
Two  massy  keys  he  bore  of  metals  twain, 
(The  golden  opes,  the  iron  shuts  amain,) 
He  shook  his  mitred  locks,  and  stern  bespake : 
"  How  well  could  I  have  spared  for  thee,  young  swain,  >  '  ' 
Enow  of  such  as  for  their  bellies'  sake 
Creep,  and  intrude,  and  climb  into  the  fold ! 
Of  other  care  they  little  reckoning  make, 
Than  how  to  scramble  at  the  shearers'  feast, 
And  shove  away  the  worthy  bidden  guest ; 
r~Blind  moujihs !  that  scarce  themselves  know  how  to  holt! 
JL  sheep-hook,  or  have  learn'd  aught  else  the  least 
That  to  the  faithful  herdsman's  art  belongs  ! 
What  recks  it  them ?    What  need  they  ?    They  are  sped" 
And  when  they  list,  their  lean  and  flashy  songs 
Grate  on  their  scrannel-pipes  of  wretched  straw ; 
The  hungry  sheep  look  up,  and  are  not  fed, 
But,  swollen  with  wind,  and  the  rank  mist  they  draw, 
Kot  inwardly,  and  foul  contagion  spread : 
Besides  what  the  grim  wolf  with  privy  paw 
Daily  devours  apace,  and  nothing  said. 
But  that  two-handed  engine  at  the  door 
Stands  ready  to  smite  once,  and  smite  no  more." 

Keturn,  Alpheus,  the  dread  voice  is  past, 
That  shrunk  thy  streams ;  return,  Sicilian  muse, 
And  call  the  vales,  and  bid  them  hither  cast 
Their  bells  and  flowerets  of  a  thousand  hues. 
Ye  valleys  low,  where  the  mild  whispers  use 
Of  shades,  and  wanton  winds,  and  gushing  brooks, 
On  whose  fresh  lap  the  swart  star  sparely  looks, 
Throw  hither  all  your  quaint  enamell'd  eyes 
That  on  the  green  turf  suck  the  honey'd  showers, 
And  purple  all  the  ground  with  vernal  flowers. 
Bring  the  rathe  primrose  that  forsaken  dies, 
The  tufted  crow-toe,  and  pale  jessamine, 
The  white  pink,  and  the  pansy  freak'd  with  jet, 
The  glowing  violet, 

The  musk-rose,  and  the  well-attired  woodbine, 
With  cowslips  wan  that  hang  the  pensive  head, 
And  every  flower  that  sad  embroidery  wears  : 


476  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Bid  amaranthus  all  his  beauty  shed, 
And  daffodillies  fill  their  cups  with  tears, 
To  strow  the  laureate  hearse  where  Lycid  lies. 
For  so  to  interpose  a  little  ease, 
Let  our  frail  thoughts  dally  with  false  surmise. 
Ay  me !  whilst  thee  the  shores  and  sounding  seas 
Wash  far  away,  where'er  thy  bones  are  hurl'd, 
"Whether  beyond  the  stormy  Hebrides, 
Where  thou  perhaps  under  the  whelming  tide 
Visit'st  the  bottom  of  the  monstrous  world ; 
Or  whether  thou  to  our  moist  vows  denied, 
Sleep'st  by  the  fable  of  Bellerus  old, 
Where  the  great  vision  of  the  guarded  mount 
Looks  toward  Namancos  and  Bayona's  hold ; 
Look  homeward,  angel  now,  and  melt  with  ruth  : 
"And  oh,  ye  dolphins,  waft  the  hapless  youth. 
^0*  "Weep  no  more,  woeful  shepherds,  weep  no  more, 
For  Lycidas,  your  sorrow,  is  not  dead, 
Sunk  though  he  be  beneath  the  watery  floor/ 
So  sinks  the  day-star  in  the  ocean  bed, 
And  yet  anon  repairs  his  drooping  head, 
And  tricks  his  beams,  and  with  new-spangled  ore 
Flames  in  the  forehead  of  the  morning  sky  : 
So  Lycidas  sunk  low,  but  mounted  high, 
Through  the  dear  might  of  Him  that  walk'd  the  waves, 
Where  other  groves  and  other  streams  along, 
"With  nectar  pure  his  oozy  locks  he  laves, 
And  hears  the  unexpressive  nuptial  song, 
In  the  blest  kingdoms  meek  of  joy  and  love. 
There  entertain  him  all  the  saints  above, 
In  solemn  troops,  and  sweet  societies, 
That  sing,  and  singing  in  their  glory  move, 
And  wipe  the  tears  forever  from  his  eyes. 
Now,  Lycidas,  the  shepherds  weep  no  more ; 
Henceforth  thou  art  the  genius  of  the  shore, 
In  thy  large  recompense,  and  shalt  be  good 
To  all  that  wander  in  that  perilous  flood. 

Thus  sang  the  uncouth  swain  to  the  oaks  and  rills. 
While  the  still  morn  went  out  with  sandals  gray  • 
He  touch'd  the  tender  stops  of  various  quills, 
With  eager  thought  warbling  his  Doric  lay : 
And  now  the  sun  had  stretch'd  out  all  the  hills, 
And  now  was  dropt  into  the  western  bay; 


POEMS    ON   SEVERAL    OCCASIONS.  477 

At  last  he  rose,  and  twitch'd  his  mantle  blue  : 
To-morrow  to  fresh  woods  and  pastures  new. 


XVIII. 

THE  FIFTH  ODE  OF  HORACE,  LIB.  I. 
Quis  multa  gracilis  tepuer  in  rosa. 

Rendered  almost  word  for  word,  without  rhyme,  according  to  the  Latin 
measure,  as  near  as  the  language  will  permit 

WHAT  slender  youth,  bedew'd  with  liquid  odors, 
Courts  thee  on  roses  in  some  pleasant  cave, 

Pyrrha  ?    For  whom  bind'st  thou 

In  wreaths  thy  golden  hair, 
Plain  in  thy  neatness  ?     Oh,  how  oft  shall  he 
On  faith  and  changed  gods  complain,  and  seas 

Eough  with  black  winds  and  storms 

Unwonted  shall  admire ! 
Who  now  enjoys  thee  credulous,  all  gold, 
Who  always  vacant,  always  amiable, 

Hopes  thee,  of  flattering  gales 

Unmindful.    Hapless  they 

To  whom  thou  untried  seem'st  fair.    Me  in  my  vow'd 
Picture  the  sacred  wall  declares  to  have  hung 

My  dank  and  dropping  weeds 

To  the  stern  god  of  sea. 

AD  PYRRHAM.— ODE  V. 

Horatius  ex  Pyrrhae  illecebris  tanquam  e  naufragio  enataverat,  cujus  amore 
irretitos,  affirmat  esse  miseros. 

Quis  multa  gracilis  te  puer  in  rosa 
Perfusus  liquidis  urget  odoribus, 

Grato,  Pyrrha,  sub  antro  ? 

Cui  flavam  religas  comam 
Simplex  munditiis  ?  heu  quoties  fidem 
Mutatosque  deos  flebit,  et  aspera 

Nigris  gequora  ventis 

Emirabitur  insolens ! 
Qui  nunc  te  fruitur  credulus  aurea, 
Qui  semper  vacuam  semper  amabilem 

Sperat,  nescius  auraa 

Fallacis.    Miseri  quibus 


478  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Intentata  nites.    Me  tabula  sacer 
Votiva  paries  indicat  uvida 

Suspendisse  potent! 

Vestimenta  maris  Deo. 


XIX. 

ON  THE  NEW  FORCERS  OF  CONSCIENCE  UNDEB  THE 
LONG  PARLIAMENT. 

BECAUSE  you  have  thrown  off  your  prelate  lord, 
And  with  stiff  vows  renounced  his  liturgy, 
To  seize  the  widow'd  whore  Plurality 
From  them  whose  sin  ye  envied,  not  abhorr'd, 

Dare  ye  for  this  adjure  the  civil  sword 
To  force  our  consciences  that  Christ  set  free, 
And  ride  us  with  a  classic  hierarchy 
Taught  ye  by  mere  A.  S.  and  Botherford  ? 

Men  whose  life,  learning,  faith,  and  pure  intent 
Would  have  been  held  in  high  esteem  with  Paul, 
Must  now  be  named  and  printed  Heretics 

By  shallow  Edwards  and  Scotch  what-d'ye-call : 
But  we  do  hope  to  find  out  all  your  tricks, 
Your  plots  and  packing  worse  than  those  of  Trent, 

That  so  the  Parliament 

May  with  their  wholesome  and  preventive  shears 
Clip  your  phylacteries,  though  balk  your  ears, 
And  succor  our  just  fears, 

"When  they  shall  read  this  clearly  in  your  charge, 
New  Presbyter  is  but  Old  Priest  writ  large. 


SONNETS. 


i. 

TO  THE  NIGHTINGALE. 

O  NIGHTINGALE,  that  on  yon  bloomy  spray 
Warblest  at  eve,  when  all  the  woods  are  still, 
Thou  with  fresh  hope  the  lover's  heart  dost  fill, 
"While  the  jolly  hours  lead  on  propitious  May. 

Thy  liquid  notes  that  close  the  eye  of  day, 
First  heard  before  the  shallow  cuckoo's  bill, 
Portend  success  in  love.     Oh,  if  Jove's  will 
Have  link'd  that  amorous  power  to  thy  soft  lay, 

Now  timely  sing,  ere  the  rude  bird  of  hate 
Foretell  my  hopeless  doom  in  some  grove  nigh ; 
As  thou  from  year  to  year  hast  sung  too  late 

For  my  relief,  yet  hadst  no  reason  why : 
Whether  the  Muse,  or  Love,  call  thee  his  mate, 
Both  them  I  serve,  and  of  their  train  am  I. 


II. 

DOXNA  leggiadra  il  cui  bel  nome  honora 
L'herbosa  val  di  Bheno,  e  il  nobil  varco, 
Bene  e  colui  d'  ogni  valore  scarco 
Qual  tuo  spirto  gentil  non  innamora, 

Che  dolcemente  mostra  si  di  fuora 
De  sui  atti  soavi  giamai  parco, 
E  i  don',  che  son  d'  amor  saette  ed  arco, 
La  onde  1'  alta  tua  virtu  s'  infiora. 

Quando  tu  vaga  parli,  o  lieta  canti 
Che  mover  possa  duro  alpestre  legno, 
Guardi  ciascun  a  gli  occhi,  ed  a  gli  orecchi 

L'  entrata,  chi  di  te  si  truova  indegno : 
Grazia  sola  di  su  gli  raglia,  inanti 
Che  '1  disio  amoroso  al  cuor  s'  invecchi. 


480  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

III. 

QTJAL  in  cofle  aspro,  al  irabrunir  di  sera 
L'  avezza  giovinetta  pastorella 
Va  bagnando  1'  herbetta  strana  e  bella 
Che  mal  si  spande  a  disusata  spera 

Fuor  di  sua  natia  alma  primavera, 
Cosi  Amor  meco  insu  la  lingua  snella 
Desta  il  fior  novo  di  strania  favella, 
Mentre  io  di  te,  vezzosamente  altera, 

Canto,  dal  mio  buon  popol  non  inteso, 
E  '1  bel  Tamigi  cangio  col  bel  Arno. 
Amor  lo  volse,  ed  io  a  1'  altrui  peso 

Seppi  cb'  Amor  cosa  mai  volse  indarno. 
Deb !  foss'  il  mio  cuor  lento  e  '1  duro  seno 
A  chi  pianta  dal  ciel  si  buon  terreno. 


CANZONE. 

RIDONSI  donne  e  giovani  amorosi 
M'  accostandosi  attorno,  e  percbe  scrivi, 
Percbe  tu  scrivi  in  lingua  ignota  e  strana 
Verseggiando  d'  amor,  e  come  t'  osi  ? 
Dinne,  se  la  tua  speme  sia  mai  vana, 
E  de  pensieri  lo  miglior  t'  arrivi ; 
Cosi  mi  van  burlando,  altri  rivi 
Altri  lidi  t'  aspettan,  et  altre  onde 
Nelle  cui  verdi  sponde 
Spuntati  ad  bor,  ad  hor  a  la  tua  chioma 
L'  immortal  guiderdon  d'  eterne  frondi ; 
Perche  alle  spalle  tue  sovercbia  soma  ? 
Canzon  dirotti,  e  tu  per  me  rispondi 
Dice  mia  Donna,  e  '1  suo  dir,  e  il  mio  cuore 
Questa  e  lingua  di  cui  si  vanta  Amore. 


IV. 

DIODATI,  e  te  '1  dir6  con  maraviglia, 
Quel  ritrpso  10  cb'  amor  spreggiar  solea 
E  de  suoi  lacci  spesso  mi  ridea 
Gia  caddl,  ov'  buom  dabben  talbor  s'  irapiglia. 


SONNETS.  481 

Ne  treccie  <T  oro,  ne  guancia  vermiglia 

M'  abbaglian  si,  ma  sotto  nova  idea 

Pellegrina  bellezza  che  '1  cuor  bea, 

Portainenti  alti  honesti,  e  nelle  ciglia 
Quel  sereno  fulgor  d'  amabil  nero, 

Parole  adorne  di  lingua  piu  d'  una, 

E  '1  cantar  che  di  mezzo  1'  heudspero 
Traviar  ben  puo  la  faticosa  Luna, 

E  degli  occM  suoi  auventa  si  gran  fuoco 

Che  F  incerar  gli  orecchi  mi  fia  poco. 


Y. 

PER  certo  i  bei  vostr'  occhi,  Donna  mia 
Esser  non  puo  che  non  sian  lo  mio  sole 
Si  mi  percuoton  forte,  come  ei  suole 
Per  P  arene  di  Libia  chi  s'  invia, 

Mentre  un  caldo  vapor  (ne  sent!  pria) 
Da  quel  lato  si  spinge  ove  mi  duole, 
Chp  forse  amanti  nelle  lor  parole 
Chiaman  sospir ;  io  non  so  che  si  si  a : 

Parte  rinchiusa,  e  turbida  si  cela 
Scosso  mi  il  petto,  e  poi  n'  uscendo  poco 
Quivi  d'  attorno  o  s'  agghiaccia,  o  s'  ingiela ; 

Ma  quanto  a  gli  occhi  giunge  a  trovar  loco 
Tutte  le  notti  a  me  suol  far  piovose 
Finche  mia  Alba  rivien  colma  di  rose. 


VI. 

GIOVANE  piano,  e  semplicetto  amante, 
Poi  che  fuggir  me  stesso  in  dubbio  sono, 
Madonna  a  voi  del  mio  cuor  1'  humil  dono 
Faro  divoto ;  io  certo  a  prove  tante 

L'  hebbi  fedele,  intrepido,  costante, 
De  pensieri  leggiadro,  accorto,  e  buono ; 
Quando  rugge  il  gran  mondo,  e  scocca  il  tuono, 
S'  arma  di  se,  e  d'  intero  diamante, 

Tanto  del  forse,  e  d'  invidia  sicuro, 
41 


482  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Di  timori,  e  speranze  al  popol  use 
Quanto  d'  ingegno,  e  <T  alto  valor  vago, 
E  di  cetra  sonora,  e  delle  muse : 
Sol  troverete  in  tal  parte  men  duro 
Ove  Amor  mise  F  insanabil  ago. 


VII. 

ON  HIS  BEING  ARRIVED  TO  THE  AGE  OF  TWENTY- 
THREE. 

How  soon  hath  Time,  the  subtle  thief  of  youth, 
Stolen  on  his  wing  my  three-and-twentieth  year ! 
My  hasting  days  fly  on  with  full  career, 
But  my  late  spring  no  bud  or  blossom  show'th. 

Perhaps  my  semblance  might  deceive  the  truth, 
That  I  to  manhood  am  arrived  so  near, 
And  inward  ripeness  doth  much  less  appear, 
That  some  more  timely-happy  spirits  endu'th. 

Yet  be  it  less  or  more,  or  soon  or  slow, 
It  shall  be  still  in  strictest  measure  even 
To  that  same  lot,  however  mean  or  high, 

Toward  which  Time  leads  me,  and  the  will  of  Heaven ; 
All  is,  if  I  have  grace  to  use  it  so, 
As  ever  in  my  great  Task-master's  eye. 


VIII. 
WHEN  THE  ASSAULT  WAS  INTENDED  TO  THE  CITY, 

CAPTAIN,  or  colonel,  or  knight  in  arms, 

Whose  chance  on  these  defenceless  doors  may  seize, 

If  deed  of  honor  did  thee  ever  please, 

Guard  them,  and  him  within  protect  from  harms. 

He  can  requite  thee,  for  he  knows  the  charms 
That  call  fame  on  such  gentle  acts  as  these, 
And  he  can  spread  thy  name  o'er  lands  and  seas, 
Whatever  clime  the  sun's  bright  circle  warms. 

Lift  not  thy  spear  against  the  Muse's  bower : 
The  great  Emathian  conqueror  bid  spare 


SONNETS.  483 

The  house  of  Pindarus,  when  temple  and  tower 
Went  to  the  ground :  And  the  repeated  air 
Of  sad  Electra's  poet  had  the  power 
To  save  the  Athenian  walls  from  ruin  bare 


IX. 

TO  A  VIRTUOUS  YOUNG  LADY. 

LADY,  that  in  the  prime  of  earliest  youth 

"Wisely  hast  shunn'd  the  broad  way  and  the  green, 
And  with  those  few  art  eminently  seen, 
That  labor  up  the  hill  of  heavenly  truth, 

The  better  part  with  Mary  and  with  Ruth 
Chosen  thou  hast ;  and  they  that  overween, 
And  at  thy  growing  virtues  fret  their  spleen, 
No  anger  find  in  thee,  but  pity  and  ruth. 

Thy  care  is  fix'd,  and  zealously  attends 
To  fill  thy  odorous  lamp  with  deeds  of  light, 
And  hope  that  reaps  not  shame.     Therefore  be  sure 

Thou,  when  the  bridegroom  with  his  feastful  friends 
Passes  to  bliss  at  the  mid  hour  of  night, 
Hath  gain'd  thy  entrance,  virgin  wise  and  pure. 


X. 

TO  THE  LADY  MARGARET  LEY. 

DAUGHTER  to  that  good  earl,  once  president 
Of  England's  council,  and  her  treasury, 
"Who  lived  in  both,  unstain'd  with  gold  or  fee, 
And  left  them  both,  more  in  himself  content, 

Till  sad  the  breaking  of  that  parliament 
Broke  him,  as  that  dishonest  victory 
At  Ohasronea,  fatal  to  liberty, 
Kill'd  with  report  that  old  man  eloquent. 

Though  later  born  than  to  have  known  the  days 
"Wherein  your  father  flourished,  yet  by  'you,  . 


484  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Madam,  methinks  I  see  him  living  yet ; 
So  well  your  words  his  noble  virtues  praise, 
That  all  both  judge  you  to  relate  them  true, 
And  to  possess  them,  honor'd  Margaret. 


XL 

ON  THE  DETRACTION  WHICH  FOLLOWED  UPON  MY 
WRITING  CERTAIN  TREATISES. 

A  BOOK  was  writ  of  late,  call'd  Tetrachordon, 
And  woven  close,  both  matter,  form,  and  style ; 
The  subject  new :  it  walk'd  the  town  a  while, 
Numbering  good  intellects ;  now  seldom  pored  on. 

Cries  the  stall-reader,  Bless  us !  what  a  word  on 
A  title-page  is  this !  and  some  in  file 
Stand  spelling  false,  while  one  might  walk  to  Mile- 
End  Green.     Why  is  it  harder,  sirs,  than  Gordon, 

Colkitto,  or  Macdonnel,  or  Galasp  ? 
Those  rugged  names  to  our  like  mouths  grow  sleek, 
That  would  have  made  Quintilian  stare  and  gasp. 

Thy  age,  like  ours,  0  soul  of  Sir  John  Cheek, 
Hated  not  learning  worse  than  toad  or  asp,     [Greek. 
When  thou  taught'st  Cambridge  and  king  Edward 


XII. 
ON  THE  SAME. 

I  DID  but  prompt  the  age  to  quit  their  clogs 
By  the  known  rules  of  ancient  liberty, 
When  straight  a  barbarous  noise  environs  me 
Of  owls  and  cuckoos,  asses,  apes,  and  dogs : 

As  when  those  hinds  that  were  transform'd  to  frogs 
Rail'd  at  Latona's  twin-born  progeny, 
Which  after  held  the  sun  and  moon  in  fee. 
But  this  is  got  by  casting  pearl  to  hogs ; 

That  bawl  for  freedom  in  their  senseless  mood, 
And  still  revolt  when  truth  would  set  them  free. 
License  they  mean  when  they  cry  "Liberty!" 

For  who  loves  that,  must  first  be  wise  and  good ; 


SONNETS.  485 

But  from  that  mark  how  far  they  rove  we  see 
For  all  this  waste  of  wealth,  and  loss  of  blood. 


XIII. 
TO  MR.  H.  LAWES,  ON  HIS  AIRS. 

HARRY,  whose  tuneful  and  well-measured  song 
First  taught  our  English  music  how  to  span 
Words  with  just  note  and  accent,  not  to  scan 
With  Midas'  ears,  committing  short  and  long ; 

Thy  worth  and  skill  exempts  thee  from  the  throng, 
With  praise  enough  for  envy  to  look  wan ; 
To  after  age  thou  shalt  be  writ  the  man, 
That  with  smooth  air  couldst  humor  best  our  tongue 

Thou  honor'st  verse,  and  verse  must  lend  her  wing 
To  honor  thee,  the  priest  of  Phoebus'  quire, 
That  tun'st  their  happiest  lines  in  hymn  or  story. 

Dante  shall  give  Fame  leave  to  set  thee  higher 
Than  his  Casella,  whom  he  woo'd  to  sing, 
Met  in  the  milder  shades  of  purgatory. 


XIV. 

ON  THE  RELIGIOUS  MEMORY  OF  MRS.  CATHARINE 

THOMSON,  MY  CHRISTIAN  FRIEND, 

Deceased  Ibth  Dec.  1646. 

WHEN  faith  and  love,  which  parted  from  thee  never, 
Had  ripen'd  thy  just  soul  to  dwell  with  God, 
Meekly  the  u  didst  resign  this  earthly  load 
Of  death,  call'd  life ;  which  us  from  life  doth  sever. 

Thy  works  and  alms  and  all  thy  good  endeavor 
Stay'd  not  behind,  nor  in  the  grave  were  trod ; 
"But  as  faith  pointed  with  her  golden  rod, 
Folio  w'd  thee  up  to  joy  and  bliss  forever. 

Love  led  them  on,  and  faith,  who  knew  them  best 
Thy  handmaids,  clad  them  o'er  with  purple  beams 
And  azure  wings,  that  up  they  flew  so  drest, 

And  spake  the  truth  of  thee  on  glorious  themes 


486  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Before  the  Judge,  who  thenceforth  bid  thee  rest 
And  drink  thy  fill  of  pure  immortal  streams. 


XY. 

TO  THE  LORD  GENERAL  FAIRFAX. 

FAIRFAX,  whose  name  in  arms  through  Europe  rings, 
Filling  each  mouth  with  envy  or  with  praise, 
And  all  her  jealous  monarchs  with  amaze 
And  rumors  loud,  that  daunt  remotest  kings, 

Thy  firm  unshaken  virtue  ever  brings 
Victory  home,  though  new  rebellions  raise 
Their  Hydra-heads,  and  the  false  North  displays 
Her  broken  league  to  imp  their  serpent  wings. 

0  yet  a  nobler  task  awaits  thy  hand, 
(For  what  can  war  but  endless  war  still  breed  ?) 
Till  truth  and  right  from  violence  be  freed, 

And  public  faith  clear'd  from  the  shameful  brand 
Of  public  fraud.    In  vain  doth  valor  bleed, 
While  avarice  and  rapine  share  the  land. 


XVI. 
TO  THE  LORD  GENERAL  CROMWELL. 

(JftOMWELL,  our  chief  of  men,  who  through  a  cloud, 
Not  of  war  only,  but  detractions  rude, 
Guided  by  faith  and  matchless  fortitude, 
To  peace  and  truth  thy  glorious  way  hast  plouglrd ; 

And  on  the  neck  of  crowned  fortune  proud 

Hast  rear'd  God's  trophies,  and  his  work  pursued, 
While  Darwen  stream  with  blood  of  Scots  imbrued, 
And  Dunbar  field  resounds  thy  praises  loud, 

And  Worcester's  laureate  wreath.    Yet  much  remains 
To  conquer  still ;  peace  hath  her  victories 
No  less  renown'd  than  war :  new  foes  arise 

Threatening  to  bind  our  souls  with  secular  chains : 
Help  us  to  save  free  conscience  from  the  paw 
Of  hireling  wolves,  whose  gospel  is  their  maw. 


SONNETS.  487 

XVII. 
TO  SIR  HENRY  VANE  THE  YOUNGER. 

VANE,  young  in  years,  but  in  sage  counsel  old, 
Than  whom  a  better  senator  ne'er  held 
The  helm  of  Rome,  when  gowns,  not  arms,  repell'd 
The  fierce  Epirot  and  the  African  bold ; 

"Whether  to  settle  peace,  or  to  unfold 
The  drift  of  hollow  states  hard  to  be  spell'd, 
Then  to  advise  how  war  may  best  upheld, 
Move  by  her  two  main  nerves,  iron  and  gold, 

In  all  her  equipage ;  besides  to  know 
Both  spiritual  power  and  civil,  what  each  means, 
What  severs  each,  thou  hast  learn'd,  which  few  have 

The  bounds  of  either  sword  to  thee  we  owe :        [done. 
Therefore,  on  thy  firm  hand  religion  leans 
In  peace,  and  reckons  thee  her  eldest  son. 


XVIII. 

TON  THE  LATE  MASSACRE  IN  PIEDMONT 
EXGE,  O  Lord,  thy  slaughtered  saints,  whose  bones    <t** 
Lie  scattered  on  the  Alpine  mountains  cold ;      fa 
Even  them  who  kept  thy  truth  so  pure  of  old, 
When  all  our  fathers  worshipped  stocks  and  stones,     c 

Forget  not :  in  thy  book  record  their  groans 
Who  were  thy  sheep,  and  in  their  ancient  fold 
Slain  by  the  bloody  Piedmontese  that  roll'd 
Mother  with  infant  down  the  rocks.    Their  moans  <^ 

The  vales  redoubled  to  the  hills,  and  they  ^ 

To  Heaven.    Their  martyr'd  blood  and  ashes  sow 
O'er  all  the  Italian  fields,  where  still  doth  sway 

The  triple  tyrant ;  that  from  these  may  grow 
A  hundred-fold,  who  having  learn'd  thy  way      *  . 
Early  may  fly  the  Babylonian  woe. 


XIX. 

ON  HIS  BLINDNESS. 

WHEN  I  consider  how  my  light  is  spent 

Ere  half  my  days,  in  this  dark  world  and  wide, 


488  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

And  that  one  talent,  which  is  death  to  hide, 
Lodged  with  me  useless,  though  my  soul  more  bent 

To  serve  therewith  my  Maker,  and  present 
My  true  account,  lest  he  returning  chide  ; 
"Doth  God  exact  day-labor,  light  denied?" 
I  fondly  ask  :  But  Patience,  to  prevent 

That  murmur,  soon  replies,  "  God  doth  not  need 
Either  man's  work  or  his  own  gifts  ;  who  best 
Bear  his  mild  yoke,  they  serve  him  best  :  his  'state 

Is  kingly  ;  thousands  at  his  bidding  speed, 
And  post  o-'er  land  and  ocean  without  rest- 
They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait."^/ 


XX. 

TO  MR.  LAWRENCE. 

LAWEEXCE,  of  virtuous  father  virtuous  son, 
Now  that  the  fields  are  dank,  and  ways  are  mire,  < 
Where  shall  we  sometimes  meet,  and  by  the  fire  j> 
Help  waste  a  sullen  day,  what  may  be  won 
^  From  the  hard  season  gaining?    Time  will  run 
On  smoother,  till  Favonius  reinspire 
The  frozen  earth,  and  clothe  in  fresh  attire 
The  lily  and  rose,  that  neither  sow'd  nor  spun. 
What  neat  repast  shall  feast  us,  light  and  choice,  -^ 
"Of  Attic  taste,  with  wine,  whence  we  may  rise 
To  hear  the  lute  well  touch'd,  or  artful  voice  - 
/Warble  immortal  notes  and  Tuscan  air  ? 
^ -He  who  of  those  delights  can  judge,  and  spare 
-L.  To  interpose  them  oft,  is  not  unwise. 


XXI. 

TO  CYRIAC  SKINNER. 

CYKIAO,  whose  grandsire,  on  the  royal  bench 
Of  British  Themis,  with  no  mean  applause, 
Pronounced,  and  in  his  volumes  taught,  our  laws, 
Which  others  at  their  bar  so  often  wrench ; 

To-day  deep  thoughts  resolve  with  me  to  drench 


SONNETS.  489 

In  mirth,  that  after  no  repenting  draws ; 

Let  Euclid  rest  and  Archimedes  pause, 

And  what  the  Swede  intends,  and  what  the  French. 
To  measure  life  learn  thou  betimes,  and  know 

Toward  solid  good  what  leads  the  nearest  way ; 

For  other  things  mild  Heaven  a  time  ordains, 
And  disapproves  that  care,  though  wise  in  show, 

That  with  superfluous  burden  loads  the  day, 

And  when  God  sends  a  cheerful  hour,  refrains. 


XXII, 
TO  THE  SAME. 

CYRIAC,  this  three  years'  day  these  eyes,  though  clear 

To  outward  view,  of  blemish  or  of  spot, 

Bereft  of  light  their  seeing  have  forgot ; 

!N"or  to  their  idle  orbs  doth  sight  appear 
Of  sun,  or  moon,  or  star  throughout  the  year, 

Or  man,  or  woman.    Yet  I  argue  not 

Against  Heaven's  hand  or  will,  nor  bate  a  jot 

Of  heart  or  hope ;  but  still  bear  up  and  steer 
Bight  onward.    What  supports  me,  dost  thou  ask  ? 

The  conscience,  friend,  to  have  lost  them  overplied 

In  liberty's  defence,  my  noble  task, 
Of  which  all  Europe  talks  from  side  to  side.  [mask 

This  thought  might  lead  me  through  the  word's  vain 

Content,  though  blind,  had  I  no  better  guide. 


XXIII. 
ON  HIS  DECEASED  WIFE. 

METHOUGHT  I  saw  my  late  espoused  saint 
Brought  to  me  like  Alcestis  from  the  grave, 
Whom  Jove's  great  son  to  her  glad  husband  gave, 
Rescued  from  death  by  force,  though  pale  and  faint. 

Mine,  as  whom  wash'd  from  spot  of  child-bed  taint 
Purification  in  the  old  law  did  save  ; 
And  such,  as  yet  once  more  I  trust  to  have 
Full  sight  of  her  in  Heaven  without  restraint, 


400  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Came  rested  all  in  white,  pure  as  her  mind : 
Her  face  was  veil'd,  yet  to  my  fancied  sight 
Love,  sweetness,  goodness,  in  her  person  shined 

So  clear,  as  in  no  face  with  more  delight. 
But  oh !  as  to  embrace  me  she  inclined, 
I  waked,  she  fled,  and  day  brought  back  my  night. 


PSALMS 


PSALM  I. 
DONE  INTO  YERSK  1663. 

BLESS'D  is  the  man  who  hath  not  walk'd  astray 
In  counsel  of  the  wicked,  and  i'  the  way 
Of  sinners  hath  not  stood,  and  in  the  seat 
Of  scorners  hath  not  sat.    But  in  the  great 
Jehovah's  law  is  ever  his  delight, 
And  in  his  law  he  studies  day  and  night. 
He  shall  be  as  a  tree  which  planted  grows 
By  watery  streams,  and  in  his  season  knows 
To  yield  his  fruit,  and  his  leaf  shall  not  fall, 
And  what  he  takes  in  hand  shall  prosper  all. 
Not  so  the  wicked,  but  as  chaff  which,  fann'd, 
The  wind  drives,  so  the  wicked  shall  not  stand 
In  judgment,  or  abide  their  trial  then, 
Nor  sinners  in  the  assembly  of  just  men. 
For  the  Lord  knows  the  upright  way  of  the  just, 
And  the  way  of  bad  men  to  ruin  must. 


PSALM  II. 

DONE  AUGUST  8,  1653. 

Tersette. 

WHY  do  the  Gentiles  tumult,  and  the  nations 
Muse  a  vain  thing,  the  kings  of  the  earth  upstand 
"With  power,  and  princes  in  their  congregations 

Lay  deep  their  plots  together  through  each  land 
Against  the  Lord  and  his  Messiah  dear  ? 
Let  us  break  off,  say  they,  by  strength  of  hand 

Their  bonds,  and  cast  from  us,  no  more  to  wear, 
Their  twisted  cords :  He  who  in  Heaven  doth  dwel1. 


492  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Shall  laugh,  the  Lord  shall  scoff  them,  then  severe 

Speak  to  them  in  his  wrath,  and  in  his  fell 
And  fierce  ire  trouble  them ;  but  I,  saith  he, 
Anointed  have  my  King  (though  ye  rebel) 

On  Si  on  my  holy  hill.    A  firm  decree 
I  will  declare ;  the  Lord  to  me  hath  said, 
Thou  art  my  Son,  I  have  begotten  thee 

This  day ;  ask  of  me,  and  the  grant  is  made ; 
As  thy  possession  I  on  thee  bestow 
The  heathen,  and  as  thy  conquest  to  be  sway'd 

Earth's  utmost  bounds :  them  shalt  thou  bring  full  low 
With  iron  sceptre  bruised,  and  them  disperse 
Like  to  a  potter's  vessel  shiver'd  so. 

And  now  be  wise  at  length,  ye  kings  averse, 
Be  taught,  ye  judges  of  the  earth ;  with  fear 
Jehovah  serve,  and  let  your  joy  converse 

"With  trembling ;  kiss  the  Son  lest  he  appear 
In  anger  and  ye  perish  in  the  way, 
If  once  his  wrath  take  fire  like  fuel  sere. 

Happy  all  those  who  have  in  him  their  stay. 


PSALM  III. 

AUGUST  9,  1653. 

When  he  fled  from  Absalom. 

LOKD,  how  many  are  my  foes ! 

How  many  those 
That  in  arms  against  me  rise ! 

Many  are  they 

That  of  my  life  distrustfully  thus  say, 
No  help  for  him  in  God  there  lies. 
But  thou,  Lord,  art  my  shield,  my  glory, 

Thee  through  my  story 
The  exalter  of  my  head  I  count ; 

Aloud  I  cried 

Unto  Jehovah,  he  full  soon  replied 
And  heard  me  from  his  holy  mount. 
I  lay  and  slept,  I  waked  again, 

For  my  sustain 

"Was  the  Lord.    Of  many  millions 
The  populous  rout 


PSALMS.  493 

I  fear  not,  though  encamping  round  about 
They  pitch  against  me  their  pavilions. 
Rise,  Lord,  save  me,  107  God,  for  thou 

Hast  smote  ere  now 
On  the  cheek-bone  all  my  foes, 

Of  men  abhorr'd 

Hast  broke  the  teeth.    This  help  was  from  the  Lord : 
Thy  blessing  on  thy  people  flows. 


PSALM  IV. 
AUGUST  10,  1653. 

ANSWER  me  when  I  call, 
God  of  my  righteousness, 
In  straits  and  in  distress 
Thou  didst  me  disinthrall 
And  set  at  large ;  now  spare, 

Now  pity  me,  and  hear  my  earnest  prayer. 

Great  ones,  how  long  will  ye 
My  glory  have  in  scorn, 
How  long  be  thus  forborne 
Still  to  love  vanity, 
To  love,  to  seek,  to  prize 

Things  false  and  vain,  and  nothing  else  but  lies  ? 

Yet  know  the  Lord  hath  chose, 
Chose  to  himself  apart, 
The  good  and  meek  of  heart, 
(For  whom  to  choose  he  knows ;) 
Jehovah  from  on  high 
"Will  hear  my  voice  what  time  to  him  I  cry. 

Be  awed,  and  do  not  sin, 
Speak  to  your  hearts  alone, 
Upon  your  beds,  each  one, 
And  be  at  peace  within. 
Offer  the  offerings  just 
Of  righteousness,  and  in  Jehovah  trust. 

Many  there  be  that  say, 
"Who  yet  will  show  us  good  ? 
Talking  like  this  world's  brood ; 
42 


494  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

But,  Lord,  thus  let  me  pray, 
On  us  lift  up  the  light, 
Lift  up  the  favor  of  thy  countenance  bright. 

Into  my  heart  more  joy 
And  gladness  thou  hast  put, 
Than  when  a  year  of  glut 
Their  stores  doth  over-cloy, 
And  from  their  plenteous  grounds 
"With  vast  increase  their  corn  and  wine  abounds. 

In  peace  at  once  will  I 
Both  lay  me  down  and  sleep, 
For  thou  alone  dost  keep 
Me  safe  where'er  I  lie : 
As  in  a  rocky  cell 
Thou,  Lord,  alone  in  safety  mak'st  me  dwell. 


PSALM  V. 
AUGUST  12,  1663. 

JEHOVAH,  to  my  words  give  ear, 

My  meditation  weigh, 
The  voice  of  my  complaining  hear, 
My  King  and  God ;  for  unto  thee  I  pray. 
Jehovah,  thou  my  early  voice 
Shalt  in  the  morning  hear, 
P  the  morning  I  to  thee  with  choice 
Will  rank  my  prayers,  and  watch  till  thos  appeal. 
For  thou  art  not  a  God  that  takes 

In  wickedness  delight, 
Evil  with  thee  no  biding  makes, 
Fools  or  mad  men  stand  not  within  thy  sight. 
All  workers  of  iniquity 

Thou  hat'st ;  and  them  unblest 
Thou  wilt  destroy  that  speak  a  lie ; 
The  bloody  and  guileful  man  God  doth  detest. 
But  I  will  in  thy  mercies  dear, 

Thy  numerous  mercies,  go 
Into  thy  house ;  I  in  thy  fear 
Will  towards  thy  holy  temple  worship  low. 


PSALMS.  495 

Lord,  lead  me  in  thy  righteousness, 

Lead  me  because  of  those 
That  do  observe  if  I  transgress  ; 
Set  thy  ways  right  before,  where  my  step  goes. 
For  in  his  faltering  mouth  unstable 

No  word  is  firm  or  sooth ; 
Their  inside,  troubles  miserable ; 
An  open  grave  their  throat,  their  tongue  they  smooth. 
God,  find  them  guilty,  let  them  fall, 

By  their  own  counsels  quell'd ; 
Push  them  in  their  rebellions  all 
Still  on ;  for  against  thee  they  have  rebelPd. 
Then  all  who  trust  in  thee  shall  bring 
Their  joy  ;  while  thou  from  blame 
Defend'st  them,  they  shall  ever  sing 
And  shall  triumph  in  thee,  who  love  thy  name. 
For  thou,  Jehovah,  wilt  be  found 

To  bless  the  just  man  still ; 
As  with  a  shield  thou  wilt  surround 
Him  with  thy  lasting  favor  and  good-will. 


PSALM  VI. 
ATTGITST  13,  1653. 

LOED,  in  thine  anger  do  not  reprehend  me, 
Nor  in  thy  hot  displeasure  me  correct ; 
Pity  me,  Lord,  for  I  am  much  deject, 

And  very  weak  and  faint ;  heal  and  amend  me : 

For  all  my  bones,  that  even  with  anguish  ache, 
Are  troubled ;  yea,  my  soul  is  troubled  sore, 
And  thou,  O  Lord,  how  long  ?  turn,  Lord,  restore 

My  soul ;  oh,  save  me  for  thy  goodness7  sake ; 

For  in  death  no  remembrance  is  of  thee ; 
Who  in  the  grave  can  celebrate  thy  praise  ? 
Wearied  I  am  with  sighing  out  my  days, 

Nightly  my  couch  I  make  a  kind  of  sea ; 

My  bed  I  water  with  my  tears ;  mine  eye 
Through  grief  consumes,  is  waxen  old  and  dark 
I'  the  midst  of  all  mine  enemies  that  mark. 

Depart,  all  ye  that  work  iniquity, 


196  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Depart  from  me ;  for  the  voice  of  my  weeping 

The  Lord  hath  heard,  the  Lord  hath  heard  my  prayer. 
My  supplication  with  acceptance  fair 

The  Lord  will  own,  and  have  me  in  his  keeping. 

Mine  enemies  shall  all  be  blank  and  dash'd 

With  much  confusion ;  then  grown  red  with  shame, 
They  shall  return  in  haste  the  way  they  came, 

And  in  a  moment  shall  be  quite  abash'd. 


PSALM  VII. 

AUGUST  14*  1653. 

Upon  the  words  ofChush  the  Benjamite  against  him. 

LORD,  my  God,  to  thee  I  fly, 
Save  me  and  secure  me  under 
Thy  protection  while  I  cry, 
Lest  as  a  lion  (and  no  wonder) 
He  haste  to  tear  my  soul  asunder, 
Tearing  and  no  rescue  nigh. 

Lord,  my  God,  if  I  have  thought 
Or  done  this ;  if  wickedness 
Be  in  my  hands,  if  I  have  wrought 
111  to  him  that  meant  me  peace, 
Or  to  him  have  render'd  less, 
And  not  freed  my  foe  for  naught ; 

Let  the  enemy  pursue  my  soul 
And  overtake  it ;  let  him  tread 
My  life  down  to  the  earth,  and  roll 
In  the  dust  my  glory  dead, 
In  the  dust ;  and,  there  outspread, 
Lodge  it  with  dishonor  foul. 

Rise,  Jehovah,  in  thine  ire, 

Rouse  thyself  amidst  the  rage 

Of  my  foes  that  urge  like  fire ; 

And  wake  for  me,  their  fury  assuage ; 

Judgment  here  thou  didst  engage 

And  command,  which  I  desire. 

So  the  assemblies  of  each  nation 
Will  surround  thee,  seeking  right,  / 


PSALMS.  497 

Thence  to  thy  glorious  habitation 
Return  on  high,  and  in  their  sight. 
Jehovah  judgeth  most  upright 
All  people  from  the  world's  foundation. 

Judge  me,  Lord,  be  judge  in  this 
According  to  my  righteousness, 
And  the  innocence  which  is 
Upon  me :  cause  at  length  to  cease 
Of  evil  men  the  wickedness, 
And  their  power  that  do  amiss.        * 

But  the  just  establish  fast, 

Since  thou  art  the  just  God  that  tries 

Hearts  and  reins.     On  God  is  cast 

My  defence,  and  in  him  lies, 

In  him  who  both  just  and  wise 

Saves  the  upright  of  heart  at  last. 

God  is  a  just  judge  and  severe, 

And  God  is  every  day  offended ; 

If  the  unjust  will  not  forbear, 

His  sword  he  whets,  his  bow  hath  bended 

Already,  and  for  him  intended 

The  tools  of  death,  that  waits  him  near. 

(His  arrows  purposely  made  he 
For  them  that  persecute.)    Behold 
He  travels  big  with  vanity, 
Trouble  he  hath  conceived  of  old 
As  in  a  womb,  and  from  that  mould 
Hath  at  length  brought  forth  a  lie. 

He  digg'd  a  pit,  and  delved  it  deep, 

And  fell  into  the  pit  he  made ; 

His  mischief  that  due  course  doth  keep, 

Turns  on  his  head,  and  his  ill  trade 

Of  violence  will,  undelay'd, 

Fall  on  his  crown  with  ruin  steep. 

Then  will  I  Jehovah's  praise 
According  to  his  justice  raise, 
And  sing  the  Name  and  Deity 
Of  Jehovah  the  most  high. 


498  MILTON'S  POETICAL  W.ORKS. 

PSALM  VIII. 

AUGUST  14, 1658. 

O  JEHOVAH  our  Lord,  how  wondrous  great 
And  glorious  is  thy  name  through  all  the  earth ! 

So  as  above  the  Heavens  thy  praise  to  set 
Out  of  the  tender  mouths  of  latest  birth. 

Out  of  the  mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings  thou 
Hast  founded  strength  because  of  all  thy  foes, 

To  stint  the  enemy,  and  slack  the  avenger's  brow, 
That  bends  his  rage  thy  providence  to  oppose. 

When  I  behold  thy  Heavens,  thy  fingers'  art, 
The  moon  and  stars  which  thou  so  bright  hast  set 

In  the  pure  firmament,  then  saith  my  heart, 
0  what  is  man  that  thou  rememberest  yet, 

And  think'st  upon  him ;  or  of  man  begot, 
That  him  thou  visit'st,  and  of  him  art  found  ? 

Scarce  to  be  less  than  gods,  thou  mad'st  his  lot, 
With  honor  and  with  state  thou  hast  him  crown'd. 

O'er  the  works  of  thy  hand  thou  mad'st  him  lord, 
Thou  hast  put  all  under  his  lordly  feet, 

All  flocks,  and  herds,  by  thy  commanding  word, 
All  beasts  that  in  the  field  or  forest  meet, 

Fowl  of  the  heavens,  and  fish  that  through  the  wet 
Sea-paths  in  shoals  do  slide,  and  know  no  dearth. 

O  Jehovah  our  Lord,  how  wondrous  great 
And  glorious  is  thy  name  through  all  the  earth ! 


APKIL,  1648.    J.  M. 

[Sine  of  the  Psalms  done  into  metre,  wherein  all,  but  what  is  in  a 
different  character,  are  the  very  words  of  the  text,  translated  from  the 
original] 

PSALM  LXXX. 

1  Tnou  Shepherd  that  dost  Israel  keep, 

Give  ear  in  time  of  need  ; 
"Who  leadest  like  a  flock  of  sheep 
Thy  loved  Joseph's  seed. 


PSALMS.  499 

That  sitt'st  between  the  Cherubs  bright, 

Between  their  wings  out-spread, 
Shine  forth,  and  from  thy  cloud  give  light, 

And  on  our  foes  thy  dread. 

2  In  Ephraim's  view  and  Benjamin's, 

And  in  Manasseh's  sight, 
Awake  thy  strength ;  come,  and  be  seen 
To  save  us  by  thy  might. 

3  Turn  us  again,  thy  grace  divine 

To  us,  O  God,  vouchsafe  ; 
Cause  thou  thy  face  on  us  to  shine, 
And  then  we  shall  be  safe. 

4  Lord  God  of  Hosts,  how  long  wilt  thou, 

How  long  wilt  thou  declare 
Thy  smoking  wrath,  and  angry  brow 
Against  thy  people's  prayer ! 

5  Thou  feed'st  them  with  the  bread  of  tears, 

Their  bread  with  tears  they  eat, 
And  mak'st  them  largely  drink  the  tears 
Wherewith  their  cheeks  are  wet. 

6  A  strife  thou  mak'st  us  and  a  prey 

To  every  neighbor  foe, 
Among  themselves  they  laugh,  they  play, 
And  flouts  at  us  they  throw. 

7  Return  us,  and  thy  grace  divine, 

O  God  of  Hosts,  vouchsafe, 
Cause  thou  thy  face  on  us  to  shine, 
And  then  we  shall  be  safe. 

8  A  vine  from  Egypt  thou  hast  brought, 

Thy  free  love  made  it  thine, 
And  drov'st  out  nations,  proud  and  haut, 
To  plant  this  lovely  vine. 

9  Thou  didst  prepare  for  it  a  place, 

And  root  it  deep  and  fast, 

That  it  began  to  grow  apace, 

And  filPd  the  land  at  last. 

10  "With  her  green  shade  that  cover'd  all, 

The  hills  were  overspread, 
Her  boughs  as  high  as  cedars  tall 
Advanced  their  lofty  head. 

11  Her  branches  on  the  western  side 

Down  to  the  sea  she  sent, 


500  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

And  upward  to  that  river  wide 
Her  other  branches  went. 

12  Why  hast  thou  laid  her  hedges  low, 

And  broken  down  her  fence, 
That  all  may  pluck  her,  as  they  go, 
With  rudest  violence  f 

13  The  tusked  boar  out  of  the  wood 

Upturns  it  by  the  roots ; 
Wild  beasts  there  browse,  and  make  their  food 
Her  grapes  and  tender  shoots. 

14  Eeturn  now,  God  of  Hosts,  look  down 

From  Heaven,  thy  seat  divine, 
Behold  us,  lut  without  a  frown, 
And  visit  this  thy  vine. 

15  Visit  this  vine,  which  thy  right  hand 

Hath  set,  and  planted  long, 
And  the  young  branch,  that  for  thyself 
Thou  hast  made  firm  and  strong. 

16  But  now  it  is  consumed  with  fire, 

And  cut  with  axes  down, 
They  perish  at  thy  dreadful  ire, 
At  thy  rebuke  and  frown. 

17  Upon  the  man  of  thy  right  hand 

Let  thy  good  hand  be  laid, 
Upon  the  Son  of  Man,  whom  thou 
Strong  for  thyself  hast  made. 

18  So  shall  we  not  go  back  from  thee 

To  ways  of  sin  and  shame; 
Quicken  us  thou,  then  gladly  we 
Shall  call  upon  thy  name. 

19  Keturn  us,  and  thy  grace  divine, 

Lord  God  of  Hosts,  vouchsafe, 
Cause  thou  thy  face  on  us  to  shine, 
And  then  we  shall  be  safe. 


PSALM  LXXXI. 

1  To  God  our  strength  sing  loud,  and  clear 

Sing  loud  to  God  our  King, 
To  Jacob's  God,  that  all  may  hear, 
Loud  acclamations  ring. 


PSALMS.  501 

2  Prepare  a  hymn,  prepare  a  song, 

The  timbrel  hither  bring, 
The  cheerful  psaltery  bring  along, 
And  harp  with  pleasant  string. 

3  Blow,  as  is  wont,  in  the  new  moon, 

With  trumpets'  lofty  sound, 
The  appointed  time,  the  day  whereon 
Our  solemn  feast  comes  round. 

4  This  was  a  statute  given  of  old 

For  Israel  to  observe, 
A  law  of  Jacob's  God,  to  hold, 
From  whence  they  might  not  sicerve. 

5  This  he  a  testimony  ordain'd 

In  Joseph,  not  to  change, 
When  as  he  pass'd  through  Egypt  land  •> 
The  tongue  I  heard  was  strange. 

6  From  burden,  and  from  slavish  toil, 

I  set  his  shoulder  free : 
His  hands  from  pots,  and  miry  soil, 
Delivered  were  ly  me. 

7  When  trouble  did  thee  sore  assail, 

On  me  then  didst  thou  call, 
And  I  to  free  thee  did  not  fail, 

And  led  thee  out  of  thrall. 
I  answer'd  thee  in  thunder  deep, 

With  clouds  encompass'd  round ; 
I  tried  thee  at  the  water  steep 

Of  Meribah  renown1  d. 

8  Hear,  O  my  people,  hearken  well, 

I  testify  to  thee, 
Thou  ancient  stock  of  Israel, 
If  thou  wilt  list  to  me, 

9  Throughout  the  land  of  thy  abode 

No  alien  god  shall  be, 
Nor  shalt  thou  to  a  foreign  god 
In  honor  bend  thy  knee. 

10  I  am  the  Lord  thy  God  which  brought 

Thee  out  of  Egypt  land ; 
Ask  large  enough,  and  I,  besought, 
Will  grant  thy  full  demand. 

11  And  yet  my  people  would  not  hear, 

Nor  hearken  to  my  voice ; 


502  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

And  Israel,  whom  I  loved  so  dear, 
Misliked  me  for  his  choice. 

12  Then  did  I  leave  them  to  their  will, 

And  to  their  wandering  mind ; 
Their  own  conceits  they  followed  still, 
Their  own  devices  blind. 

13  Oh  that  my  people  would  ~be  wise, 

To  serve  me  all  their  days  ! 

And  oh  that  Israel  would  advise 

To  walk  my  righteous  ways ! 

14  Then  would  I  soon  bring  down  their  foea. 

That  now  so  proudly  rise, 
And  turn  my  hand  against  all  those 
That  are  their  enemies. 

15  "Who  hate  the  Lord  should  then  ~befain 

To  bow  to  him  and  bend ; 
But  they,  his  people,  should  remain, 
Their  time  should  have  no  end. 

16  And  he  would  feed  them  from  the  shoclc 

With  flour  of  finest  wheat, 

And  satisfy  them  from  the  rock 

With  honey  for  their  meat. 


PSALM  LXXXII. 

1  GOD  in  the  great  assembly  stands 

Of  Icings  and  lordly  states, 
Among  the  gods,  on  both  his  hands 
He  judges  and  debates. 

2  How  long  will  ye  pervert  the  right 

With  judgment  false  and  wrong, 
Favoring  the  wicked  "by  your  might, 
Who  thence  grow  lold  and  strong  ? 

3  Regard  the  weak  and  fatherless, 

Dispatch  the  poor  man's  cause, 
And  raise  the  man  in  deep  distress 
By  just  and  equal  laws : 

4  Defend  the  poor  and  desolate, 

And  rescue  from  the  hands 
Of  wicked  men  the  low  estate 
Of  him  that  help  demands. 


PSALMS.  503 

6  They  know  not,  nor  will  understand, 

In  darkness  they  walk  on ; 
The  earth's  foundations  all  are  moved, 
And  out  of  order  gone. 

6  I  said  that  ye  were  gods,  yea  all 

The  sons  of  God  most  high ; 

7  But  ye  shall  die  like  men,  and  fall 

As  other  princes  die. 

8  Rise,  God,  judge  thou  the  earth  in  might, 

This  wicked  earth  redress, 
For  thou  art  he  who  shalt  by  right 
The  nations  all  possess. 


PSALM  LXXXIII. 

1  BE  not  thou  silent  now  at  length, 

0  God,  hold  not  thy  peace  ; 
Sit  thou  not  still,  O  God  of  strength, 

We  cry,  'and  do  not  cease. 
9  For  lo,  iky  furious  foes  now  swell, 

And  storm  outrageously ; 
And  they  that  hate  thee,  proud  a 

Exalt  their  heads  full  high. 
8  Against  thy  people  they  contrive 
Their  plots  and  counsels  deep ; 
Them  to  ensnare  they  chiefly  strive, 
Whom  thou  dost  hide  and  keep. 

4  Come,  let  us  cut  them  off,  say  they, 

Till  they  no  nation  be, 
That  Israel's  name  forever  may 
Be  lost  in  memory. 

5  For  they  consult  with  all  their  might. 

And  all  as  one  in  mind 
Themselves  against  thee  they  unite, 
And  in  firm  union  bind. 

6  The  tents  of  Edom,  and  the  brood 

Of  scornful  Ishmael, 
Moab,  with  them  of  Hagar s  blood, 
That  in  the  desert  dwell ; 

7  Gebal  and  Ammon  there  conspire, 

And  hateful  Amalek, 


504  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

The  Philistines,  and  they  of  Tyre, 
Whose  "bounds  the  sea  doth  check. 

8  With  them  great  Ashur  also  bands 

And  doth  confirm  the  knot : 
All  these  have  lent  their  armed  hands 
To  aid  the  sons  of  Lot. 

9  Do  to  them  as  to  Midian  "bold, 

That  wasted  all  the  coast, 
To  Sisera,  and  as  is  told 

Thou  didst  to  Jabin's  host, 
When  at  the  brook  of  Kishon  old 

They  were  repulsed  and  slain, 

10  At  Endor  quite  cut  off,  and  roll'd 

As  dung  upon  the  plain. 

11  As  Zeb  and  Oreb  evil  sped, 

So  let  their  princes  speed, 
As  Zeba  and  Zalniunna  lied, 
So  let  their  princes  Weed. 

12  For  they  amidst  their  pride  have  said, 

By  right  now  shall  we  seize 
God's  houses,  and  will  now  invade 
Their  stately  palaces. 

13  My  God,  oh  make  them  as  a  wheel, 

No  quiet  let  them  find  ; 
Giddy  and  restless  let  them  reel 
Like  stubble  from  the  wind. 

14  As  when  an  aged  wood  takes  fire 

Which  on  a  sudden  strays, 
The  greedy  flame  runs  higher  and  higher 
Till  all  the  mountains  blaze. 

15  So  with  thy  whirlwind  them  pursue, 

And  with  thy  tempest  chase ; 

16  And  till  they  yield  thee  honor  due, 

Lord,  fill  with  shame  their  face. 

17  Ashamed  and  troubled  let  them  be, 

Troubled  and  shamed  forever, 
Ever  confounded,  and  so  die 
With  shame,  and  'scape  it  never. 

18  Then  shall  they  know  that  thou  whose  name 

Jehovah  is  alone, 

Art  the  Most  High,  and  thou  the  same 
O'er  all  the  earth  art  one. 


PSALMS.  505 


PSALM  LXXXIV. 

1  How  lovely  are  thy  dwellings  fair ! 

0  Lord  of  Hosts,  how  dear 
The  pleasant  tabernacles  are, 
Where  thou  dost  dwell  so  near  ! 

2  My  soul  doth  long  and  almost  die 

Thy  courts,  O  Lord,  to  see, 
My  heart  and  flesh  aloud  do  cry, 

O  living  God,  for  thee. 
8  There  even  the  sparrow  freed  from  wrong 

Hath  found  a  house  of  rest; 
The  swallow  there,  to  lay  her  young 

Hath  built  her  brooding  nest : 
Even  by  thy  altars,  Lord  of  Hosts, 

They  find  their  safe  abode. 
And  home  they  fly  from  round  the  coasts, 

Toward  thee,  my  King,  my  God. 

4  Happy,  who  in  thy  house  reside, 

Where  thee  they  ever  praise, 

5  Happy,  whose  strength  in  thee  doth  bide, 

And  in  their  hearts  thy  ways. 

6  They  pass  through  Baca's  thirsty  vale, 

That  dry  and  barren  ground, 
As  through  a  fruitful  watery  dale 
Where  springs  and  showers  abound. 

7  They  journey  on  from  strength  to  strength 

With  joy  and  gladsome  cheer, 
Till  all  before  our  God  at  length 
In  Sion  do  appear. 

8  Lord  God  of  Hosts,  hear  now  my  prayer, 

O  Jacob's  God,  give  ear, 

9  Thou  God  our  shield,  look  on  the  face 

Of  thy  anointed  dear. 
10  For  one  day  in  thy  courts  to  ~be 

Is  better,  and  more  llest^ 
Than  in  the  joys  of  vanity 

A  thousand  days  at  lest. 
I  in  the  temple  of  my  God 

Had  rather  keep  a  door, 
Than  dwell  in  tents,  and  rich  abqde, 

"With  sin  for  evermore. 
43 


506  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

11  For  God  the  Lord,  both  sun  and  shield, 

Gives  grace  and  glory  bright; 
No  good  from  them  shall  be  withheld 
Whose  ways  are  just  and  right. 

12  Lord  God  of  Hosts  that  reign1  st  on  high, 

That  man  is  truly  blest 
Who  only  on  thee  doth  rely, 
And  in  thee  only  rest. 


PSALM  LXXXV. 

1  THY  land  to  favor  graciously 

Thou  hast  not,  Lord,  been  slack ; 
Thou  hast  from  hard  captivity 
Keturned  Jacob  back. 

2  The  iniquity  thou  didst  forgive 

That  wrought  thy  people  woe, 
And  all  their  sin,  that  did  thee  grieve, 
Hast  hid  where  none  shall  know. 

3  Thine  anger  all  thou  hadst  removed, 

And  calmly  didst  return 
From  thy  fierce  wrath,  which  we  had  proved 
Far  worse  than  fire  to  burn. 

4  God  of  our  saving  health  and  peace, 

Turn  us,  and  us  restore ; 
Thine  indignation  cause  to  cease 
Toward  us,  and  chide  no  more. 

5  Wilt  thou  be  angry  without  end, 

Forever  angry  thus? 
Wilt  thou  thy  frowning  ire  extend 
From  age  to  age  on  us  ? 

6  Wilt  thou  not  turn,  and  hear  our  voice, 

And  us  again  revive, 
That  so  thy  people  may  rejoice 
By  thee  preserved  alive  ? 

7  Cause  us  to  see  thy  goodness,  Lord, 

To  us  thy  mercy  shew ; 
Thy  saving  health  to  us  afford, 

And  life  in  us  renew. 

6  And  now  what  God  the  Lord  will  speak, 
I  win  go  straight  and  hear ; 


PSALMS. 

For  to  his  people  he  speaks  peace, 

And  to  his  saints  full  dear, 
To  his  dear  saints  he  will  speak  peace, 

But  let  them  never  more 
Return  to  folly,  but  surcease 

To  trespass  as  lefore. 
9  Surely  to  such  as  do  him  fear 

Salvation  is  at  hand, 
And  glory  shall  erelong  appear 

To  dwell  within  our  land. 

10  Mercy  and  Truth  that  long  were  missed 

Now  joyfully  are  met, 
Sweet  Peace  and  Righteousness  have  kiss'd, 
And  hand  in  hand  are  set. 

11  Truth  from  the  earth,  like  to  a  flower, 

Shall  bud  and  blossom  then, 
And  Justice  from  her  heavenly  bower 
Look  down  on  mortal  men. 

12  The  Lord  will  also  then  bestow 

"Whatever  thing  is  good ; 
Our  land  shall  forth  in  plenty  throw 
Her  fruits  to  "be  our  food. 

13  Before  him  Righteousness  shall  go, 

His  royal  harbinger : 
Then  will  he  come,  and  not  be  slow, 
His  footsteps  cannot  err. 


PSALM  LXXXVI. 

1  THY  gracious  ear,  0  Lord,  incline, 

0  hear  me,  /  thee  pray, 

For  I  am  poor,  and  almost  pine 
With  need,  and  sad  decay. 

2  Preserve  my  soul,  for  I  have  trod 

Thy  ways,  and  love  the  just ; 
Save  thou  thy  servant,  O  my  God, 
"Who  still  in  thee  doth  trust. 

3  Pity  me,  Lord,  for  daily  thee 

1  call;  4.  O  make  rejoice 

Thy  servant's  soul ;  for.  Lord,  to  thee 
I  lift  my  soul  and  voice. 


508  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

6  For  thou  art  good,  thou,  Lord,  art  prone 

To  pardon,  thou  to  all 
Art  full  of  mercy,  thou  alone 
To  them  that  on  thee  call. 

6  Unto  my  supplication,  Lord, 

Give  ear,  and  to  the  cry 
Of  my  incessant  prayers  afford 
Thy  hearing  graciously. 

7  I  in  the  day  of  my  distress 

Will  call  on  thQefor  aid; 
For  thou  wilt  grant  wzfree  access, 
And  answer  what  I  prayed. 

8  Like  thee  among  the  gods  is  none, 

0  Lord,  nor  any  works 

Of  all  that  other  gods  have  done 
Like  to  thy  glorious  works. 

9  The  nations  all  whom  thou  hast  made 

Shall  come,  and  all  shall  frame 
To  how  them  low  before  thee,  Lord, 
And  glorify  thy  name. 

10  For  great  thou  art,  and  wonders  great 

By  thy  strong  hand  are  done, 
Thou  in  thy  everlasting  seat 
Kemainest  God  alone. 

11  Teach  me,  O  Lord,  thy  way  most  right, 

1  in  thy  truth  will  bide ; 

To  fear  thy  name  my  heart  unite, 
So  shall  it  never  slide. 

12  Thee  will  I  praise,  O  Lord  my  God, 

Thee  honor  and  adore 
With  my  whole  heart,  and  blaze  abroad 
Thy  name  for  evermore. 

13  For  great  thy  mercy  is  toward  me, 

And  thou  hast  freed  my  soul, 
Even  from  the  lowest  Hell  set  free, 
From  deepest  darkness  foul. 

14  0  God,  the  proud  against  me  rise, 

And  violent  men  are  met 
To  seek  my  life,  and  in  their  eyes 
No  fear  of  thee  have  set. 

15  But  thou,  Lord,  art  the  God  most  mild, 

Readiest  thy  grace  to  show, 


PSALMS.  509 


Slow  to  be  angry,  and  art  styled 
Most  merciful,  most  true. 

16  O  turn  to  me  thy  face  at  length, 

And  me  have  mercy  on ; 
Unto  thy  servant  give  thy  strength, 
And  save  thy  handmaid's  son. 

1 7  Some  sign  of  good  to  me  affbrd, 

And  let  my  foes  then  see, 
And  be  ashamed ;  because  thou,  Lord, 
Dost  help  and  comfort  me. 


PSALM  LXXXVII. 

1  AMONG  the  holy  mountains  high 

Is  his  foundation  fast, 
There  seated  is  his  sanctuary, 
His  temple  there  is  placed. 

2  Siorfsfair  gates  the  Lord  loves  more 

Than  all  the  dwellings  fair 
Of  Jacob's  land,  though  there  "be  store, 
And  all  within  his  care. 

3  City  of  God,  most  glorious  things 

Of  thee  abroad  are  spoke ; 

4  I  mention  Egypt,  where  proud  Icings 

Did  our  forefathers  yoke  ; 
I  mention  Babel  to  my  friends, 

Philistiaj%ZZ  of  scorn, 
And  Tyre  with  Ethiop's  utmost  ends, 

Lo  this  man  there  was  born : 

5  But  twice  that  praise  shall  in  our  ear  . 

Be  said  of  Sion  last, 
This  and  this  man  was  born  in  her, 
High  God  shall  fix  her  fast. 

6  The  Lord  shall  write  it  in  a  scroll 

That  ne'er  shall  be  out-worn, 
"When  he  the  nations  doth  enroll, 
That  this  man  there  was  born, 

7  Both  they  who  sing,  and  they  who  dance, 

With  sacred  songs  are  there  ; 
In  ihQQ  fresh  Iroolcs,  and  soft  streams  glance, 
And  all  my  fountains  clear. 


510  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 


PSALM  LXXXVIII. 

1  LORD  God,  that  dost  me  save  and  keep, 

All  day  to  thee  I  cry ; 
And  all  night  long  before  thee  tceep^ 
Before  thee  prostrate  lie. 

2  Into  thy  presence  let  my  prayer 

With  sighs  devout  ascend, 
And  to  my  cries,  that  ceaseless  are, 
Thine  ear  with  favor  bend. 

3  For  cloy 'd  with  woes  and  trouble  store 

Surcharged  my  soul  doth  lie ; 
My  life  at  death's  uncheerful  door 
Unto  the  grave  draws  nigh. 

4  Keckon'd  I  am  with  them  that  pass 

Down  to  the  dismal  pit ; 
I  am  a  man,  but  weak,  alas, 
And  for  that  name  unfit. 

5  From  life  discharged  and  parted  quite 

Among  the  dead  to  sleep, 
And  like  the  slain  in  Woody  fight 

That  in  the  grave  lie  deep. 
Whom  thou  rememberest  no  more, 

Dost  never  more  regard, 
Them  from  thy  hand  deliver'd  o'er 

Death's  hideous  house  hath  ~barr\l. 

6  Thou  in  the  lowest  pit  profound 

Hast  set  me  all  forlorn, 
Where  thickest  darkness  hovers  round, 
In  horrid  deeps  to  mourn. 

7  Thy  wrath,  from  which  no  shelter  saves, 

Full  sore  doth  press  on  me ; 
Thou  break'st  upon  me  all  thy  waves, 
And  all  thy  waves  break  me. 

8  Thou  dost  my  friends  from  me  estrange, 

And  mak'st  mo  odious, 
Me  to  them  odious,  for  they  change, 
And  I  here  pent  up  thus. 

9  Through  sorrow,  and  affliction  great, 

Mine  eye  grows  dim  and  dead ; 
Lord,  all  the  day  I  thee  entreat, 
My  hands  to  thee  I  spread. 


PSALMS.  511 

10  Wilt  thou  do  wonders  on  the  dead  ? 

Shall  the  deceased  arise, 
And  praise  thee/r<?w  their  loathsome  led 
With  pale  and  hollow  eyes? 

11  Shall  they  thy  loving  kindness  tell 

On  whom  the  grave  hath  hold, 
Or  they  who  in  perdition  dwell 
Thy  faithfulness  unfold? 

12  In  darkness  can  thy  mighty  hand 

Or  wondrous  acts  be  known  ? 
Thy  justice  in  the  gloomy  land 
Of  dark  oblivion? 

13  But  I  to  thee,  0  Lord,  do  cry, 

Ere  yet  my  life  be  spent, 
And  up  to  thee  my  prayer  doth  hie, 
Each  morn,  and  thee  prevent. 

14  Why  wilt  thou,  Lord,  my  soul  forsake, 

And  hide  thy  face  from  me, 

15  That  am  already  bruised,  and  shake 

With  terror  sent  from  thee  ? 
Bruised  and  afflicted,  and  so  low 

As  ready  to  expire, 
While  I  thy  terrors  undergo 

Astonish'd  with  thine  ire. 

16  Thy  fierce  wrath  over  me  doth  flow, 

Thy  threatenings  cut  me  through  : 

17  All  day  they  round  about  me  go, 

Like  waves  they  me  pursue. 

18  Lover  and  friend  thou  hast  removed, 

And  sever'd  from  me  far : 
They  jtfy  me  now  whom  I  have  loved, 
And  as  in  darkness  are. 


A  PARAPHRASE  ON  PSALM  CXIV. 
^Tiiis  and  the  following  Psalm  were  done  by  the  Author  at  Ifteen  years  o!u.j 

WHEN  the  blest  seed  of  Terah's  faithful  son, 
After  long  toil,  their  liberty  had  won, 
And  past  from  Pharian  fields  to  Canaan  land, 
Led  by  the  strength  of  the  Almighty's  hand, 


512  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Jehovah's  wonders  were  in  Israel  shown, 

His  praise  and  glory  were  in  Israel  known. 

That  saw  the  troubled  sea,  and  shivering  fled, 

And  sought  to  hide  his  froth-becurled  head 

Low  in  the  earth ;  Jordan's  clear  streams  recoil, 

As  a  faint  host  that  hath  received  the  foil. 

The  high,  huge-bellied  mountains  skipp'd  like  rams 

Amongst  their  ewes,  the  little  hills  like  lambs. 

Why  fled  the  ocean  ?    And  why  skipp'd  the  mountains  ? 

"Why  turned  Jordan  toward  his  crystal  fountains  ? 

Shake,  Earth,  and  at  the  presence  be  aghast 

Of  him  that  ever  was,  and  aye  shall  last, 

That  glassy  floods  from  rugged  rocks  can  crush, 

And  make  soft  rills  from  fiery  flint-stones  gush. 


PSALM  CXXXVL 

LET  us  with  a  gladsome  mind 
Praise  the  Lord,  for  he  is  kind , 

For  his  mercies  aye  endure, 

Ever  faithful,  ever  sure. 

Let  us  blaze  his  name  abroad, 
For  of  gods  he  is  the  God ; 
For  his,  &c. 

Oh,  let  us  his  praises  tell, 
Who  doth  the  wrathful  tyrants  quell, 
For  his,  &c. 

Who  with  his  miracles  doth  make 
Amazed  Heaven  and  earth  to  shake. 
For  his,  &c. 

Who  by  his  wisdom  did  create 
The  painted  Heavens  so  full  of  state. 
For  his,  &c. 

Who  did  the  solid  earth  ordain 
To  rise  above  the  watery  plain. 
For  his,  &c. 


PSALMS,  513 

Who  by  his  all-commanding  might 
Did  fill  the  new-made  world  with  light. 
For  his,  &c. 

And  caused  the  golden-tressed  sun, 
All  the  day  kng  his  course  to  run. 
For  his,  &c. 

The  horned  moon  to  shine  by  night, 
Amongst  her  spangled  sisters  bright. 
For  his,  &c. 

He  with  his  thunder-clasping  hand 
Smote  the  first-born  of  Egypt  land. 
For  his,  &c. 

And  in  despite  of  Pharaoh  fell, 
He  brought  from  thence  his  Israel. 
For  his,  &c. 

The  ruddy  waves  he  cleft  in  twain 
Of  the  Erythraean  main. 
For  his,  &c. 

The  floods  stood  still  like  walls  of  glass, 
While  the  Hebrew  bands  did  pass. 
For  his,  &c. 

But  full  soon  they  did  devour    . 
The  tawny  king  with  all  his  power. 
For  his,  &c. 

His  chosen  people  he  did  bless 
In  the  wasteful  wilderness. 
For  his,  &c. 

In  bloody  battle  he  brought  down 
Kings  of  prowess  and  renown. 
For  his,  &c. 

He  foil'd  bold  Seon  and  his  host, 
That  ruled  the  Amorrean  coast. 
For  his,  &c. 

And  large-limb'd  Og  he  did  subdue, 
With  all  his  over-hardy  crew. 
For  his,  &c. 


514  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

And  to  his  servant  Israel 
He  gave  their  land  therein  to  dwell. 
For  his,  &c. 

He  hath  with  a  piteous  eye 
Beheld  us  in  our  misery. 
For  his,  &c. 

And  freed  us  from  the  slavery 
Of  the  invading  enemy. 
For  his,  &c. 

All  living  creatures  he  doth  feed, 
And  with  full  hand  supplies  their  need. 
For  his,  &c. 

Let  us  therefore  warble  forth 
His  mighty  majesty  and  worth. 
For  his,  &c. 

That  his  mansion  hath  on  high 
Above  the  reach  of  mortal  eye. 

For  his  mercies  aye  endure, 

Ever  faithful,  ever  euro. 


JOANNIS   MILTONI, 

LONDINENSIS, 

POEMATA. 

QUORUM  PLERAQUE  INTRA  ANNUM  ^TATIS  VIQESIMUM  CONSCRIPSIT. 


POEMATA. 


fltec  qua  sequuntur  de  Authore  testimonia,  tametsi  ipse  Intelligcbat  non 
tarn  de  se  quara  supra  se  esse  dicta,  eo  quod  prseclaro  ingenio  viri,  ncc  non 
amici  ita  fere  solent  laudare,  ut  omnia  suis  potius  virtutibus,  quam  veritati 
congruentia  nimis  cupidd  affingant,  noluit  tamen  horum  egregiam  in  se  vo- 
luDtatetn  non  esse  notam ;  cum  alii  prsBsertim  ut  id  faceret  magnopere  suade- 
rent  Dum  enim  nimiaa  laudis  invidiam  totls  ab  se  viribus  amolitur,  sibiquo 
quod  plus  cequo  est  non  attributum  esse  mavult,  judicium  interim  hominum 
cordatorum  atque  illustrium  quin  summo  sibi  honori  ducat,  negate  non 
potest 

JOANNES  BAPTISTA  MANSUS,  MARCHIO  VILLENSIS, 
NEAPOLITANUS, 

AD 

JOANNEM  MILTONIUM  ANGLUM. 

UT  mens,  forma,  decor,  facies,  mos,  si  pietas  sic, 
Non  Anglus,  verum  hercle  Angelus  ipse  fores. 

AD  JOANNEM  MILTONEM  ANGLUM, 

TRIPLICI  POESEOS   LATJREA  CORONANDUM, 

Grceca  nimirum,  Latina,  atque  ITetrusca,  Epigramma  Joannis  SalsUli 

Romani. 

CEDE  Meles,  cedat  depressa  Mincius  urna ; 

Sebetus  Tassum  desinat  usque  loqni ; 
At  Thamesis  victor  cnnctis  ferat  altior  undas, 

Nam  per  te,  Milto,  par  tibus  unus  erit. 

AD  JOANNEM  MILTONUM. 

GE^ECIA  Mseomdem,  jactet  sibi  Eoma  Maronein, 
Anglia  Miltonum  jactat  ntrique  parem. 

44 


518  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 


AL  SIGNIOR  GIO.  MILTONI,  NOBILE  INGLESE. 
Ode. 

EBGIMI  all'  Etra  6  Olio 

Perche  di  stelle  intreccier6  corona, 

!N"on  pid  del  biondo  Dio 

La  fronde  eterna  in  Pindo,  o  in  Elicona, 

Diensi  a  merto  maggior,  maggiori  i  fregi, 

A'  celeste  virtu  celesti  pregi. 

!N"on  puo  del  tempo  edace  , 

Rimaner  preda,  eterno  alto  valore, 

$Ton  puo  1'  oblio  rapace 

Furar  dalle  memorie  eccelso  onore ; 

Sn  P  arco  di  mia  cetra  un  dardo  forte 

Virtu  m'  adatti,  e  ferird  la  morte. 

Del  Ocean  profondo 

Cinta  dagli  ampi  gorghi  Anglia  resiede 

Separata  dal  mondo, 

Per6  che  il  sno  valor  Fumana  eccede : 

Questa  feconda  s&  produrre  Eroi, 

Oh'  hanno  a  ragion  del  sovruman  tra  noi. 

Alia  virtu  sbandita 

Danno  ne  i  petti  lor  fido  ricetto, 

Quella  gli  e  sol  gradita, 

Perche  in  lei  san  trovar  gioia  e  diletto ; 

Ridillo  tu,  Giovanni,  e  mostra  in  tanto 

Con  tua  vera  virtu,  vero  il  mio  canto. 

Lungi  dal  patrio  lido 

Spinse  Zeusi  1'  industre  ardente  brama ; 

Oh'  udio  d'  Helena  il  grido 

Con  aurea  tromba  rimbombar  la  fama, 

•E  per  poterla  effigiare  al  paro 

Dalle  pid  belle  Idee  trasse  il  piti  raro. 

Cosi  F  ape  ingegnosa 

Trae  con  industria  il  suo  liquor  pregiato 

Dal  giglio  e  dalla  rosa, 

E  quanti  vagbi  fiori  ornano  il  prato ; 

Forinano  un  dolce  suon  diverse  chorde, 

Fan  varie  voci  melodia  Concorde. 


POEMATA.  519 

Di  bella  gloria  amante 

Milton  dal  Ciel  natio  per  varie  parti 

Le  peregrine  piante 

Volgesti  a  ricercar  scienze,  ed  arti ; 

Del  Gallo  regnator  vedesti  i  regni, 

E  dell'  Italia  ancor  gl'  Eroi  piu  degni. 

Fabro  quasi  divino 

Sol  virtu  rintracciando  il  tuo  pensiero 

Vide  in  ogni  confino 

Chi  di  nobil  valor  calca  il  sentiero ; 

L'  ottimo  dal  miglior  dopo  scegliea 

Per  fabbricar  d'  ogni  virtu  1'  idea. 

Quanti  nacquero  in  Flora 

0  in  lei  del  parlar  Tosco  appreser  1'  arte, 
La  cui  memoria  onora 

II  mondo  fatta  eterna  in  dotte  carte, 
Yolesti  ricercar  per  tuo  tesoro, 
E  parlasti  con  lor  nell'  opre  loro. 

Nell'  altera  Babelle 

Per  te  il  parlar  confuse  Giove  in  vano, 

Che  per  varie  favelle 

Di  se  stessa  trofeo  cadde  su  '1  piano : 

Ch'  ode  oltr'  all'  Anglia  il  suo  piu  degno  idioma 

Spagna,  Francia,  Toscana,  e  Grecia  e  Koma. 

1  piu  profondi  arcani 

Ch'  occulta  la  natura  e  in  cielo  e  in  terra 
Ch'  &  ingegni  sovrumani 
Troppo  avaro  taP  hor  gli  chiude,  e  serra, 
Chiaramente  conosci,  e  giungi  al  fine 
Delia  moral  virtude  al  gran  confine. 

Non  batta  il  tempo  1'  ale, 

Fermisi  immoto,  e  in  un  fermin  si  gl'  anni, 

Che  di  virtu  immortale 

Scorron  di  troppo  ingiuriosi  a  i  danni ; 

Che  s'  opre  degne  di  poema  o  storia 

Furon  gia,  1'  hai  present!  alia  memoria. 

Dammi  tua  dolce  cetra 

Se  vuoi  ch'  io  dica  del  tuo  dolce  canto, 

Ch'  inalzandoti  all'  Etra 

Di  farti  huomo  celeste  ottiene  il  vanto, 


520  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

H  Tamigi  il  dira  che  gl'  e  concesso 
Per  te,  SQO  cigno,  parreggiar  Permesso. 

I  o  che  in  riva  del  Arno 

Tento  spiegar  tuo  merto  alto  e  preolaro, 

So  che  fatico  indarno, 

E  ad  ammirar,  non  a  lodarlo  imparo ; 

Freno  dunque  la  lingua,  e  ascolto  il  core 

Che  ti  prende  a  lodar  con  lo  stupore. 

Del.  sig.  ANTONIO  FEANOIXI, 

Gentilhuomo  Fiorentino. 

JOANNI  MILTONI, 

LONDDTENSI : 

Jwoeni patriot,  virtutibus,  eximio, 

YIEO  qui  multa  peregrinatione,  studio  cuncta  orbis  ter- 
rarum  loca  perspexit,  ut  novus  Ulysses  oinnia  ubique  ab 
omnibus  apprehenderet : 

Polyglotto,  in  cujus  ore  lingua)  jam  deperditaa  sic  revi- 
viscunt,  ut  idiomata  omnia  sint  in  ejus  laudibus  infacunda ; 
et  jure  ea  percallet,  ut  admirationes  et  plausus  populorum 
ab  propria  sapientia  excitatos,  intelligat : 

Illi,  cujus  animi  dotes  corporisque  sensus  ad  admiratio- 
nem  commovent,  et  per  ipsam  motum  cuique  auferunt; 
cujus  opera  ad  plausus  hortantur,  sed  venustate  vocem  lau- 
datoribus  adimunt. 

Cui  in  memorial  totus  orbis;  in  intellectu  sapientia ;  in 
voluntate  ardor  glorias ;  in  ore  eloquentia ;  harmonicos  cce- 
lestium  sphararum  sonitus  astronomia  duce  audienti ;  cha- 
racteres  mirabilium  natura3  per  quos  Dei  magnitude  descri- 
bitur  magistra  philosophic  legenti;  antiquitatum  latebras, 
vetustatis  excidia,  ernditionis  ambages,  comite  assidua  auc- 
torum  lectione, 

"Exquironti,  restaurant!,  percurronti. 
At  cur  nitor  in  arduurn  ?" 

Illi  in  cujus  virtu tibus  evulgandis  ora  FamaB  non  suffici 
ant,  nee  hominum  stupor  in  laudandis  satis  est,  reverentiaa 
et  amoris  ergo  hoc  ejus  meritis  debitum  admirationis  tribu- 
turn  ofTert  OAEOLUS  DATUS,  Patricius  Florentinus, 

Tanto  homini  servtis,  tanta3  virtutis  amator. 


ELEGIARUM  LIBER. 


ELEGIA  PKIMA 
AD  CAROLTTM  DEODATUK. 

TANDEM,  chare,  tugs  mihi  pervenere  tabellse, 

Pertulit  et  voces  nuncia  charta  tuas ; 
Pertulit,  occiduk  Devaa  Cestrensis  ab  ora 

Yergivium  prono  qua  petit  amne  salum. 
Multum,  crede,  juvat  terras  aluisse  remotas 

Pectus  amans  nostri,  tamque  fidele  caput, 
Quodque  mihi  lepidum  tellus  longinqua  sodalem 

Debet,  at  unde  brevi  reddere  jussa  velit. 
Me  tenet  urbs  reflua  qnam  Thamesis  alluit  unda, 

Meque  nee  invitum  patria  dulcis  habet. 
Jam  nee  arundiferum  mihi  cura  revisere  Camum, 

Nee  dudum  vetiti  me  laris  angit  amor. 
Nuda  nee  arva  placent,  umbrasque  negantia  molles 

Qu£m  male  Phoebicolis  convenit  ille  locus ! 
Nee  duri  libet  usque  minas  perferre  magistri, 

Ca3teraque  ingenio  non  subeunda  meo. 
Si  sit  hoc  exilium  patrios  adiisse  penates, 

Et  vacuum  curis  otia  grata  sequi, 
Non  ego  vel  profugi  nomen,  sortemve  recuso, 

La3tus  et  exilii  conditione  fruor. 
O  utinam  vates  nunquam  graviora  tulisset 

Ille  Tomitano  flebilis  exul  agro  ; 
!N"on  tune  lonio  quicquam  cessisset  Homero, 

Neve  foret  victo  laus  tibi  prima  Maro. 
Tempora  nam  licet  hie  placidis  dare  libera  Musis, 

Et  totum  rapiunt  me  mea  vita  libri. 
Excipit  hinc  fessum  sinuosi  pompa  theatri, 

Et  vocat  ad  plausus  garrula  scena  suos. 
Sen  catus  auditur  senior,  seu  prodigus  ha3res, 

Seu  procus,  aut  posita  casside  miles  adest, 


522  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Sive  decennali  foecundus  lite  patronus 

Detonat  inculto  barbara  verba  foro , 
Saape  vafer  gnato  succurrit  servus  amanti, 

Et  nasura  rigidi  fallit  ubique  patris ; 
Saape  novos  illic  virgo  mirata  calores 

Quid  sit  amor  nescit,  dum  quoque  nescit,  ainat. 
Sive  cruentatum  furiosa  Tragoedia  sceptrum 

Quassat,  et  effusis  crinibus  ora  rotat, 
Et  dolet  et  specto,  juvat  et  spectasse  dolendo, 

Interdum  et  lacrymis  dulcis  arnaror  inest : 
Seu  puer  infelix  indelibata  reliquit 

Gaudia,  et  abrupto  flendus  amore  cadit ; 
Seu  ferus  e  tenebris  iterat  Styga  criminis  ultor, 

Conscia  funereo  pectora  torre  movens  ; 
Seu  mceret  Pelopeia  domus,  seu  nobilis  Ili, 

Aut  luit  incestos  aula  Creontis  avos. 
Sed  neque  sub  tecto  semper  nee  in  urbe  latemus, 

Irrita  nee  nobis  tempora  veris  eunt. 
Nos  quoque  lucus  habet  vicina  consitus  ulino, 

Atque  suburban!  nobilis  umbra  loci. 
Scepius  hie  blandas  spirantia  sidera  flammas, 

Virgineos  videas  praeteriisse  choros. 
Ah  quoties  dignaa  stupui  miracula  formaa 

Quaa  possit  senium  vel  reparare  Jovis ! 
Ah  quoties  vidi  superantia  lumina  geramas, 

Atque  faces,  quotquot  volvit  uterque  polus ; 
Collaque  bis  vivi  Pelopis  qua9  brachia  vincant, 

Quaaque  Suit  puro  nectare  tincta  via ; 
Et  decus  eximium  frontis,  tremulosque  capillos, 

Aurea  quaa  fallax  retia  tendit  amor; 
Pellacesque  genas,  ad  quos  hyacinthina  sordet 

Purpura,  et  ipse  tui  floris,  Adoni,  rubor ! 
Cedite  laudataa  toties  Heroides  olim, 

Et  quoacunque  vagum  cepit  arnica  Joveni : 
Cedite  Achaameniaa  turrit^,  fronte  puelloa, 

Et  quot  Susa  colunt,  Memnoniamque  Ninon 
Yos  etiam  Danaaa  fasces  submittite  Nymphsa, 

Et  vos  Iliacaa,  Romuleaaque  nurus. 
Nee  Pompeianas  Tarpeia  Musa  columnas 

Jactet,  et  Ausoniis  plena  theatra  stolis. 
Gloria  Virginibus  debetur  prima  Britannis, 

Extera  sat  tibi  sit  foemina  posse  sequi. 
Tuque  urbs  Dardaniis,  Londinum,  structa  coloms, 


POEM  AT  A.  523 

Turrigerum  late  conspicienda  caput,  ^ 
Tu  nimium  felix  intra  tua  moenia  claudis 

Quicquid  formosi  pendulus  orbis  habet. 
!N"on  tibi  tot  coelo  scintillant  astra  sereno, 

Endymioneaa  turba  ministra  deaa, 
Quot  tibi,  conspicuaa  formaque  auroque  puellaa 

Per  medias  radiant  turba  videnda  vias. 
Creditur  hue  geminis  venisse  invecta  columbis 

Alma  pharetrigero  milite  cincta  Venus, 
Huic  Cnidon,  et  riguas  Simoentis  flumine  valles, 

Huic  Paphon,  et  roseam  post  habitura  Cypron. 
Ast  ego,  dum  pueri  sinit  indulgentia  cseci, 

Moenia  qu&in  subitd  linquere  fausta  paro ; 
Et  vitare  procul  malefidaa  infamia  Circes 

Atria,  divini  Molyos  usus  ope. 
Stat  quoque  juncosas  Cami  remeare  paludes, 

Atque  iterum  raucaa  murmur  adire  scholaa. 
Interea  fidi  parvum  cape  munus  amici, 

Paucaque  in  alternos  verba  coacta  modos. 


ELEGIA  SECUNDA, 

ANJTO  ,<ETATIS  17. 
In  obitum  Praconis  Academici 


TE,  qui  conspicuus  baculo  fulgente  solebas 

Palladium  toties  ore  ciere  gregem, 
Ultima  pra3conum  praconem  te  quoque  saava 

Mors  rapit,  officio  nee  fa  vet  ipsa  suo. 
Candidiora  licet  fuerint  tibi  tempora  plumis 

Sub  quibus  accipimus  delituisse  Jovem  ; 
0  dignus  tamen  Haamonio  juvenescere  succo, 

Dignus  in  ^Esonios  vivere  posse  dies, 
Dignus  quern  Stygiis  medica  revocaret  ab  undis 

Arte  Coronides,  soape  rogante  dea. 
Tu  si  jussus  eras  acies  accire  togatas, 

Et  celer  a  Phcebo  nuntius  ire  tuo, 
Talis  in  Iliac&  stabat  Cyllenius  aula 

Alipes,  aathere^L  missus  ab  arce  Patris. 
Talis  et  Eurybates  ante  ora  furentis  Achillei 

Rettulit  Atridse  jussa  severa  ducis. 


524  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Magna  sepulchrorum  regina,  satelles  Averni, 

Ssova  nimis  Musis,  Palladi  saava  mmis, 
Quin  illos  rapias  qui  pondus  inutile  terrae, 

Turba  quidem  est  telis  ista  petenda  tuis. 
Yestibus  hunc  igitur  pullis  Academia  luge, 

Et  madeant  lachrymis  nigra  feretra  tuis. 
Fundat  et  ipsa  modes  querebunda  Elegei'a  tristes, 

Personet  et  totis  maania  moesta  scliolis. 


ELEGIA  TERTIA, 

ANNO  jExATis  .17. 
In  obitum  PrcBSulis  Wintoniensia. 

MOZSTUS  eram,  et  tacitus,  nullo  comitante,  sedebam, 

Hserebantque  animo  tristia  plura  meo, 
Protinus  en  subiit  funestaa  cladis  imago 

Fecit  in  Angliaco  quam  Libitina  solo ; 
Dum  procerum  ingressa  est  splendentes  marmore  turres, 

Dira  sepulchrali  mors  metuenda  face ; 
Pulsavitque  auro  gravidos  et  jaspide  muros, 

Nee  metuit  satrapum  sternere  falce  greges. 
Tune  memini  clarique  ducis,  fratrisque  verendi 

Intempestivis  ossa  cremata  rogis : 
Et  memini  Heroum  quos  vidit  ad  aethera  raptos, 

Flevit  et  amissos  Belgia  tota  duces : 
At  te  praecipue  luxi,  dignissime  Prsesul, 

Wintonia3que  olim  gloria  magna  tusa ; 
Delicui  fletu,  et  tristi  sic  ore  querebar, 

Mors  fera,  Tartareo  diva  secunda  Jovi, 
Nonne  satis  quod  sylva  tuas  persentiat  iras, 

Et  quod  in  herbosos  jus  tibi  detur  agros, 
Quodque  afflata  tuo  marcescant  lilia  tabo, 

Et  crocus,  et  pulchraa  Cypridi  sacra  rosa, 
Nee  sinis  ut  semper  fluvio  contermina  quercus 

Miretur  lapsus  praatereuntis  aquae  ? 
Et  tibi  succumbit  liquido  quaa  plurima  coelo 

Evehitur  pennis  quamlibet  augur  avis, 
Et  quae  mille  nigris  errant  animalia  sylvis, 

Et  quod  abint  mutum  Proteos  antra  pecus. 
Invida,  tanti  tibi  cum  sit  concessa  potestas  ; 

Quid  juvat  hurnnn&  tingere  caede  manus? 


POEMATA.  525 

Kobileque  in  pectus  certas  acuisse  sagittas, 

Semideamque  animara  sede  fugasse  su£  ? 
Talia  dum  lacrymans  alto  sub  pectore  volvo, 

Roscidus  occiduis  Hesperus  exit  aquis, 
Et  Tartessiaco  submerserat  sequore  curruni 

Phoebus,  ab  Eoo  littore  mensus  iter. 
Nee  mora,  membra  cavo  posui  refovenda  cubili, 

Oondiderant  oculos  noxque  soporque  meos ; 
Cum  mihi  visus  eram  lato  spatiarier  agro, 

Heu  nequit  ingenium  visa  referre  meum. 
Illic  punice£  radiabant  omnia  luce, 

Ut  matutino  cum  juga  sole  rubent, 
Ac  veluti  cum  pandit  opes  Thaumantia  proles, 

Vestitu  nituit  multicolore  solum. 
Non  dea  tarn  variis  ornavit  floribus  hortos 

Alcinoi,  Zephyro  Chloris  amata  levi. 
Flumina  vernantes  lambunt  argentea  campos, 

Ditior  Hesperior  flavet  arena  Tago. 
Serpit  odoriferas  per  opes  levis  aura  Favoni, 

Aura  sub  innumeris  humida  nata  rosis, 
Talis  in  extremis  terra  Gangetidis  oris 

Luciferi  regis  fingitur  esse  domus. 
Ipse  racemiferis  dum  densas  vitibus  umbras, 

Et  pellucentes  miror  ubique  locos, 
Ecce  mihi  subito  Prsesul  Wintonius  astat, 

Sidereum  nitido  fulsit  in  ore  jubar ; 
Yetis  ad  auratos  defluxit  Candida  talos, 

Infula  divinum  cinxerat  alba  caput. 
Dumque  senex  tali  incedit  venerandus  amictu, 

Intremuit  laato  florea  terra  sono. 
Agmina  gemmatis  plaudunt  coelestia  pennis, 

Pura  triumphal!  personat  ffithra  tuba. 
Quisque  novum  amplexu  comitem  cantuque  salutat, 

Hosque  aliquis  placido  misit  ab  ore  sonos ; 
Nate  veni,  et  patrii  felix  cape  gaudia  regni, 

Semper  ab  hinc  duro,  nate,  labore  vaca. 
Dixit,  et  aligeraB  tetigerunt  nablia  turmaa, 

At  mihi  cum  tenebris  aurea  pulsa  quies. 
Flebam  turbatos  Cephaleia  pellice  somnos, 

Talia  contingent  somnia  sa3pe  mihi. 


526  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

ELEGIA  QUARTA, 
ANNO  ^ETA-TIB  18. 

Ad  TUOMAM  JUNITJM  prceceptorem  suum,  apud  mercatorss  Anglico^ 
natriburgm  agentes,  Pastoris  munerefungentem. 

CUERE  per  iramensum  subit6  mea  littera  pontum, 

I,  pete  Teutonicos  leave  per  saquor  agros ; 
Segues  rumpe  moras,  et  nil,  precor,  obstet  eunti, 

Et  festinantis  nil  remoretur  iter. 
Ipse  ego  Sicanio  framantem  carcere  ventos 

JSolon,  et  virides  sollicitabo  Deos, 
Cseruleamque  suis  comitatam  Dorida  Nymplris, 

Ut  tibi  dent  placidam  per  sua  regna  viam. 
At  tu,  si  poteris,  celeres  tibi  sume  jugales, 

Vecta  quibus  Colchis  fugit  ab  ore  viri ; 
Aut  queis  Triptolemus  Scythicas  devenit  in  oras 

Gratus  Eleusina  missus  ab  urbe  puer. 
Atque  ubi  Germanas  flavere  videbis  arenas, 

JDitis  ad  Hamburgoa  moenia  flecte  gradum, 
Dicitur  occiso  qua9  ducere  nomen  ab  Kama, 

Cimbrica  quern  fertur  clava  dedisse  neci. 
Vivit  ibi  antiques  clarus  pietatis  honore 

Pr&sul,  Christicolas  pascere  doctus  oves ; 
Ille  quidem  est  animaa  plusquam  pars  altera  nostra9, 

Dimidio  vitaa  vivere  cogor  ego. 
Hei  mihi !  quot  pelagi,  quot  montes  interjecti, 

Me  faciunt  alia  parte  carere  mei ! 
Charior  ille  mihi  qukm  tu  doctissime  Graium 

Cliniadi,  pronepos  qui  Telamonis  erat ; 
Quamque  Stagi rites  generoso  magnus  alumno, 

Quern  peperit  Lybico  Chaonis  alma  Jovi. 
Qualis  Amyntorides,  qualis  Philyreius  heros 

Myrmidonum  regi,  talis  et  ille  mihi. 
Primus  ego  Aonios  illo  praeeunte  recessus 

Lustrabam,  et  bifidi  sacra  vireta  jugi, 
Pieriosque  hausi  latices,  Olioque  favente, 

Castalio  sparsi  l®ta  ter  ora  mero. 
Flammeus  at  signum  ter  viderat  arietis  ^Ethon, 

Induxitque  auro  lanea  terga  novo, 
Bisque  novo  terram  sparsisti,  Chlori,  senilem 

Gramine,  bisque  tuas  abstulit  Auster  opes : 


POEM  AT  A.  02  / 

N"ecdum  ejus  licuit  mihi  lumina  pascere  vultu, 

Aut  linguae  dulces  aure  bibisse  sonos. 
Yade  igitur,  cursuque  Eurum  prseverte  sonorum, 

Qu£m  sit  opus  monitis  res  docet,  ipsa  vides. 
Invenies  dulci  cum  conjuge  forte  sedentem, 

Mulcentem  gremio  pignora  chara  suo, 
Forsitan  aut  veterum  praalarga  volumina  patrum 

Yersantem,  aut  veri  biblia  sacra  Dei, 
Coelestive  animas  saturantem  rore  tenellas, 

Grande  salutiferaa  religionis  opus. 
Utque  solet,  raultam  sit  dicere  cura  salutem, 

Dicere  quam  decuit,  si  modo  adesset,  herum. 
Haec  quoque,  paulum  oculos  in  huinum  defixa  modestos, 

Yerba  verecundo  sis  memor  ore  loqui : 
Hsec  tibi,  si  teneris  vacat  inter  praelia  Musis, 

Mittit  ab  Angliaco  littore  fida  manus. 
Accipe  sinceram,  quamvis  sit  sera,  salutem ; 

Fiat  et  hoc  ipso  gratior  ilia  tibi. 
Sera  quidem,  sed  vera  fuit,  quam  casta  recepit 

Icaris  a  lento  Penelopeia  viro. 
Ast  ego  quid  volui  manifestum  tollere  crimen, 

Ipse  quod  ex  omni  parte  levare  nequit  ? 
Arguitur  tardus  meritd,  noxamque  fatetur, 

Et  pudet  officium  deseruisse  suum. 
Tu  mod6  da  veniam  fasso,  veniamque  roganti, 

Crimina  diminui,  quaa  patuere,  solent. 
Xon  ferus  in  pavidos  rictus  diducit  hiantes, 

Yulnifico  pronos  nee  rapit  ungue  leo. 
Saape  sarissiferi  crudelia  pectora  Thracis 

Supplicis  ad  moestas  delicuere  preces. 
Extensaaque  manus  avertunt  fulminis  ictus, 

Placat  et  iratos  hostia  parva  Deos. 
Jamque  diu  scripsisse  tibi  fuit  impetus  illi, 

Neve  moras  ultra  ducere  passus  Amor. 
!N"am  vaga  Fama  refert,  heu  nuntia  vera  malorum  I 

In  tibi  finitimis  bella  tumere  locis, 
Teque  tuamque  urbem  truculento  milite  cingi, 

Et  jam  Saxonicos  arma  parasse  duces. 
Te  circum  late  campos  populatur  Enyo, 

Et  sata  carne  virum  jam  cruor  arva  rigat ; 
Germanisque  suum  concessit  Thracia  Martem, 

Illuc  Odrysios  Mars  pater  egit  equos ; 
Perpetu6que  comans  jam  deflorescit  oliva, 


528  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Fugit  et  serisonam  Diva  perosa  tubam, 
Fugit  lo  terris,  et  jam  non  ultima  virgo 

Creditur  ad  superas  justa  volasse  domos. 
Te  tamen  interea  belli  circumsonat  horror^ 

Vivis  et  ignoto  solus  inopsque  solo ; 
Et,  tibi  quam  patrii  non  exhibuere  penates, 

Sede  peregrin^,  quaeris  egenus  opem. 
Patria  dura  parens,  et  saxis  ssevior  albis 

Spumea  qusB  pulsat  littoris  unda  tui, 
Siccine  te  decet  innocuos  exponere  foetus, 

Siccine  in  externam  ferrea  cogis  humum. 
Et  sinis  ut  terris  quserant  alimenta  remotis 

Quos  tibi  prospiciens  miserat  ipse  Deus, 
Et  qui  Iseta  ierunt  de  ccelo  nuntia,  quique 

Quaa  via  post  cineres  ducat  ad  astra,  docent  ? 
Digna  quidem  Stygiis  quao  vivas  clausa  tenebris, 

jiEtern£que  animaa  digna  perire  fame ! 
Haud  aliter  vates  terra9  Tbesbitidis  olim 

Pressit  inassueto  devia  tesqua  pede, 
Desertasque  Arabum  salebras,  dum  regis  Achabii 

Effugit  atque  tuas,  Sidoni  dira,  manus. 
Talis  et  horrisono  laceratus  membra  flagello, 

Paulus  ab  ^Emathi^  pellitur  urbe  Cilix. 
Piscosseque  ipsum  Gergessss  civis  lesum 

Finibus  ingratus  jussit  abire  suis. 
At  tu  sume  animos,  nee  spes  cadat  anxia  curis, 

Nee  tua  concutiat  decolor  ossa  metus. 
.Sis  etenim  quamvis  fulgentibus  obsitus  armis, 

Intententque  tibi  millia  tela  necem, 
At  nullis  vel  inerme  latus  violabitur  armis, 

Deque  tuo  cuspis  nulla  cruore  bibet. 
Namque  eris  ipse  Dei  radiante  sub  segide  tutus, 

Ille  tibi  custos,  et  pugil  ille  tibi ; 
Ille  SionsesD  qui  tot  sub  mcenibus  arcis 

Assyrios  fudit  nocte  silente  viros ; 
Inque  fugam  vertit  quos  in  Samaritidas  oras 

Misit  ab  antiquis  prisca  Damascus  agris, 
Terruit  et  densas  pavido  cum  rege  cohortes, 

Aere  dum  vacuo  buccina  clara  sonat, 
Cornea  pulvereum  dum  verberat  ungula  campuni, 

Currus  arenosam  dum  quatit  actus  humum, 
Auditurque  hinnitus  equorum  ad  bella  ruentum, 

Et  strepitus  ferri,  murmuraque  alta  virum. 


POEM ATA.  529 

Et  tu  (quod  superest  rniseris)  sperare  memento, 

Et  tua  magnanimo  pectore  vince  mala ; 
Nee  dubites  quandoque  frui  melioribus  annis, 

Atque  iteruin  patrios  posse  videre  lares. 


ELEGIA   QUINTA, 

ANNO  uExATis  20. 
In  adventum  veris. 

IN  se  perpetuo  Tempus  revolubile  gyro 

Jam  revocat  Zephyros  vere  tepente  novos ; 
Induiturque  brevem  Tellus  reparata  juventam, 

Jamque  soluta  gelu  dulce  virescit  humus. 
Fallor?  an  et  nobis  redeunt  in  carmina  vires, 

Ingeniumque  mihi  munere  veris  adest  ? 
Munere  veris  adest,  iterumque  vigescit  ab  illo, 

(Quis  putet?)  atque  aliquod  jam  sibi  poscit  opus. 
Castalis  ante  oculos,  bifidumque  cacumen  oberrat, 

Et  mihi  Pyrenen  somnia  nocte  ferunt ; 
Concitaque  arcano  fervent  mihi  pectora  motu, 

Et  furor,  et  sonitus  me  sacer  intus  agit. 
Delius  ipse  venit,  video  Peneide  lauro 

Implicitos  crines,  Delius  ipse  venit. 
Jam  mihi  mens  liquidi  raptatur  in  ardua  coeli, 

Perque  vagas  nubes  corpore  liber  eo ; 
Perque  umbras,  perque  antra  feror  penetralia  vatum, 

Et  mihi  fana  patent  interiora  Deum ; 
Intuiturque  animus  teto  quid  agatur  Olympo, 

Nee  fugiunt  oculos  Tartara  cseca  meos. 
Quid  tarn  grande  sonat  distento  spiritus  ore  ? 

Quid  parit  ha3c  rabies,  quid  sacer  iste  furor  ? 
Ver  mihi,  quod  dedit  ingenium,  cantabitur  illo ; 

Profuerint  isto  reddita  dona  modo. 
Jam  Philomela  tuos  foliis  adoperta  novellis 

Instituis  modules,  dum  silet  omne  nemus : 
Urbe  ego,  tu  sylv&,  simul  incipiamus  utrique, 

Et  simul  adventum  veris  uterque  canat. 
Veris  lo !  rediere  vices,  celebremus  honores 

Yeris,  et  hoc  subeat  Musa  perennis  opus. 
Jam  sol  jEthiopas  fugiens  Tithoriiaque  arva, 

Fleet-it  ad  Arctoas  aurea  lora  plagas. 
45 


530  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Est  breve  noctis  iter,  brevis  est  mora  noctis  opacae, 

Horrida  cum  tenebris  exulat  ilia  suis. 
Jaraque  Lycaonius  plaustrum  coeleste  Bootes 

Non  long£  sequitur  fessus  ut  ante  vi£ ; 
Nunc  etiara  solitas  circum  Jovis  atria  toto 

Excubias  agitant  sidera  rara  polo. 
Nam  dolos,  et  casdes,  et  vis  cum  nocte  recte  recessit, 

Neve  Giganteum  Dii  timuere  scelus. 
Forte  aliquis  scopuli  recubans  in  vertice  pastor, 

Roscida  cum  primo  sole  rubescit  humus, 
Hac,  ait,  hac  certe  caruisti  nocte  puella, 

Phoebe  tua,  celeres  qu89  retineret  equos. 
Laeta  suas  repetit  sylvas,  pharetramque  resumit 

Cynthia,  Luciferas  ut  videt  alta  rotas, 
Et  tenues  ponens  radios  gaudere  videtur 

Officium  fieri  tarn  breve  fratris  ope. 
Besere,  Phoebus  ait,  thalamos  Aurora  seniles, 

Quid  juvat  effoeto  procubuisse  toro  ? 
Te  manet  bolides  viridi  venator  in  herba, 

Surge,  tuos  ignes  altus  Hymettus  habet. 
Flava  verecundo  dea  crimen  in  ore  fatetur, 

Et  matutinos  ocius  urget  equos. 
Exuit  invisam  Tellus  rediviva  senectam, 

Et  cupit  amplexus,  Phoebe,  subire  tuos ; 
Et  cupit,  et  digna  est.     Quid  enim  formosius  ill&, 

Pandit  ut  omniferos  luxuriosa  sinus, 
Atque  Arabum  spirat  messes,  et  ab  ore  venusto, 

Mitia  cum  Paphiis  fundit  amoma  rosis ! 
Ecce  coronatur  sacro  frons  ardua  luco, 

Cingit  ut  Idseam  pinea  turris  Opim ; 
Et  vario  madidos  intexit  flore  capillos, 

Floribus  et  visa  est  posse  placere  suis. 
Floribus  effusos  ut  erat  redimita  capillos 

Tenario  placuit  diva  Sicana  Deo. 
Aspice,  Phoebe,  tibi  faciles  hortantur  amores, 

Mellitasque  movent  flamina  verna  preces. 
Cinnamea  Zephyrus  leve  plaudit  odorifer  ala, 

Blanditiasque  tibi  ferre  videntur  aves, 
Nee  sine  dote  tuos  temeraria  quaorit  amores 

Terra,  nee  optatos  poscit  egena  toros, 
Alma  salutiferum  medicos  tibi  gramen  in  usus 

Prsebet,  et  hinc  titulos  adjuvat  ipsa  tuos. 
Qu6d  si  te  pretium,  si  te  fulgentia  tangunt 


POEMATA. 


531 


Munera,  (muneribus  saspe  coemptus  Amor,) 
Ilia  tibi  ostentat  quascunque  sub  89quore  vasto, 

Et  superinjectis  montibus  abdit  opes. 
Ah  quoties,  cum  tu  clivoso  fessus  Olympo 

In  vesper tinas  prsacipitaris  aquas, 
Cur  te,  inquit,  cursu  languentem,  Phcebe,  diurno 

Hesperiis  recipit  Casrula  mater  aquis  ? 
Quid  tibi  cum  Tethy  ?     Quid  cum  Tartesside  lymph.% 

Dia  quid  immundo  perluis  ora  salo  ? 
Frigora,  Phoebe,  me&  melius  captabis  in  umbra. 

Hue  ades,  ardentes  imbue  rore  comas. 
Mollior  egelid&  veniet  tibi  somnus  in  herba, 

Hue  ades,  et  gremio  lumina  pone  nieo. 
Quaque  jaces  circum  mulcebit  lene  susurrans 

Aura  per  humentes  corpora  fusa  rosas. 
Nee  me  (crede  mihi)  terrent  Semelleia  fata, 

Nee  Phaetonteo  fumidus  axis  equo ; 
Cum  tu,  Phcebe,  tuo  sapientius  uteris  igni, 

Hue  ades,  et  gremio  lumina  pone  meo. 
Sic  Tellus  lasciva  suos  suspirat  amores ; 

Matris  in  exemplum  csetera  turba  ruunt. 
Nunc  etenim  toto  currit  vagus  orbe  Cupido, 

Languentesque  fovet  solis  ab  igne  faces. 
Insonuere  novis  lethalia  cornua  nervis, 

Triste  micant  ferro  tela  corusca  novo. 
Jamque  vel  invictam  tentat  superasse  Dianam., 

Quseque  sedet  sacro  Yesta  pudica  foco. 
Ipsa  senescentem  reparat  Venus  annua  formam, 

Atque  iterum  tepido  creditur  orta  mari. 
Marmoreas  juvenes  clamant  Hymensee  per  urbes, 

Littus  lo  Hymen,  et  cava  saxa  sonant. 
Cultior  ille  venit  tunicaque  decentior  apta, 

Puniceum  redolet  vestis  odora  crocum. 
Egrediturque  frequens  ad  amoeni  gaudia  veris 

Virgineos  auro  cincta  puella  sinus. 
Votum  est  cuique  suum,  votum  est  tamen  omnibus  unmn, 

Ut  slbi  quern  cupiat,  det  Cytherea  virum. 
Nunc  quoque  septena  modulatur  arundine  pastor, 

Et  sua  quse  jungat  carmina  Phyllis  habet. 
Navita  nocturno  placat  sua  sidera  cantu, 

Delphinasque  leves  ad  vada  summa  vocat. 
Jupiter  ipse  alto  cum  conjuge  ludit  Olympo, 
Convocat  et  famulos  ad  sua  festa  Deos. 


532  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Nunc  etiam  Satyri  cum  sera  crepuscula  surgunt, 

Pervolitant  celeri  florea  rura  choro, 
Sylvanusque  sua.  cyparissi  fronde  revinctus, 

Semicaperque  Deus,  semideusque  caper. 
Quaeque  sub  arboribus  Dryades  latuere  vetustis 

Per  juga,  per  solos  expatiantur  agros. 
Per  sata  luxuriat  fruticetaque  Mssnalius  Pan, 

Vix  Cybele  mater,  vix  sibi  tuta  Ceres ; 
Atque  aliquain  cupidus  pr&datur  Oreada  Faunuau 

Oonsulit  in  trepidos  dum  sibi  nympha  pedes, 
Jamque  latet,  latitansque  cupit  male  tecta  videri, 

Et  fugit,  et  fugiens  pervelit  ipsa  capi. 
Dii  quoque  non  dubitant  cpelo  prseponere  sylvas, 

Et  sua  quisque  sibi  numina  lucus  habet, 
Et  sua  quisque  diu  sibi  numina  lucus  babeto, 

Nee  vos  arborea  dii  precor  ite  domo. 
Te  referant  miseris  te,  Jupiter,  aurea  terris 

Saecla,  quid  ad  nimbos  aspera  tela  redis  ? 
Tu  saltern  lente  rapidos  age  Phoebe  jugales 

Quk  potes,  et  sensirn  tempora  veris  eant; 
Brumaque  productas  tarde  ferat  hispida  noctes, 

Ingruat  et  nostro  serior  umbra  polo. 


ELEGIA  SEXTA. 
AD  CAEOLUM  DKODATUM,  ETIRI  COMMORANTEM, 

Qui  cum  Idibus  Decernb.  scripsisset,  et  sua  carmina  excusari  postula*' 
set  si  solito  minus  essent  ~bona,  quod  inter  lautitias  quibus  erat  ab 
amicis  eocceptus,  haud  satis  felicem  opernm  Musis  dare  se  posse  affir- 
mabat,  hoc  habuit  responsum. 

MITTO  tibi  sanam  non  pleno  ventre  salutem, 

Qua  tu  distento  forte  carere  potes. 
At  tua  quid  nostram  prolectat  Musa  camoenam, 

Nee  sinit  optatas  posse  sequi  teriebras  ? 
Carmine  scire  velis  quam  te  redamemque  colamque, 

Crede  mibi  vix  hoc  carmine  scire  queas. 
Nam  neque  noster  amor  modulis  includitur  arctis, 

Nee  venit  ad  claudos  integer  ipse  pedes. 
Quam  bene  solennes  epulas,  hilaremque  Decembrem, 

Festaque  coslifugam  qua}  coluere  Deum, 
Deliciasque  refers,  hyberni  gaudia  ruris, 


POEM  AT  A.  533 

Haustaque  per  lepidos  Gallica  musta  focos ! 
Quid  quereris  refugam  vino  dapibusque  poesin  ? 

Carmen  amat  Bacchum,  carmina  Bacchus  amat. 
Nee  puduit  Phoebum  virides  gestasse  corymbos, 

Atque  hederam  lauro  prseposuisse  sure. 
Ssepius  Aoniis  calamavit  collibus  Euse 

Mista  Thyoneo  turba  novena  choro. 
Xaso  Corallseis  rnala  carmina  misit  ab  agris : 

!N"on  illic  epulae,  non  sata  vitis  erant. 
Quid  nisi  vina,  rosasque  racemiferumque  Lyceum, 

Cantavit  brevibus  Te'ia  Musa  modis  ? 
Pindaricosque  inflat  numeros  Teumesius  Euan, 

Et  redolet  sumptum  pagina  qusDque  merum ; 
Dum  gravis  everso  currus  crepat  axe  supinus, 

Et  volat  Eleo  pulvere  fuscus  eques. 
Quadrimoque  madens  Lyricen  Komanus  laccho 

Dulce  canit  Glyceran,  flavicomamque  Chloen. 
Jam  quoque  lauta  tibi  generoso  mensa  paratu 

Mentis  alit  vires,  ingeniumque  fovet. 
Massica  foecundam  despumant  pocula  venarn, 

Fundis  et  ex  ipso  condita  metra  cado. 
Addimus  his  artes,  fusumque  per  intima  Phcebum 

Corda,  favent  uni  Bacchus,  Apollo,  Ceres. 
Scilicet  haud  mirum  tarn  dulcia  carmina  per  te 

Numine  composito,  tres  perperisse  Deos. 
Nunc  quoque  Thressa  tibi  c^lato  barbitos  auro 

Insonat  argute  molliter  icta  manu ; 
Auditurque  chelys  suspensa  tapetia  circum, 

Yirgineos  tremul^  qusB  regat  arte  pedes. 
Ilia  tuas  saltern  teneant  spectacula  Musas, 

Et  revocent,  quantum  crapula  pellit  iners, 
Crede  mihi  dum  psallit  ebur,  comitataque  plectrum 

Implet  odoratos  festa  chorea  tholos, 
Percipies  taciturn  per  pectora  serpere  Phoebum, 

Quale  repentinus  permeat  ossa  calor, 
Perque  puellares  oculos  digitumque  sonantem 

Irruet  in  totos  lapsa  Thalia  sinus. 
Namque  elegia  levis  multorum  cura  Deorum  est, 

Et  vocat  ad  numeros  quernlibet  ilia  suos ; 
Liber  adest  elegis,  Eratoque,  Ceresque,  Yenusque, 

Et  cum  purpure&  matre  tenellus  Amor. 
Talibus  inde  licent  convivia  larga  poetis. 

Sfepius  et  veteri  commaduisse  mero. 


53-i-  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

At  qui  bclla  refert,  et  adulto  sub  Jove  coelum, 

lleroasque  pios,  sernideosque  duces, 
Et  nunc  sancta  canit  superum  consulta  deorum, 

Nunc  latrata  fero  regna  profunda  cane, 
Ilia  quidem  pared  Samii  pro  more  magistri 

Vivat,  et  innocuos  prasbat  herba  cibos : 
Stet  prope  fagineo  pellucida  Ijmpha  catillo, 

Sobriaque  e  puro  pocula  fonte  bibat. 
Additur  huic  scelerisque  vacans,  et  casta  juventiis, 

Et  rigid!  mores,  et  sine  labe  nianus. 
Qualis  veste  nitens  sacr£,  et  lustralibus  undis 

Surgis  ad  infensos  augur  iture  Deos. 
Hoc  ritu  vixisse  ferunt  post  rapta  sagacem 

Lumina  Tiresian,  Ogygiumque  Linon, 
Et  lare  devoto  profugum  Calchanta,  senemque 

Orpheon,  edomitis  sola  per  antra  feris ; 
Sic  dapis  exiguus,  sic  rivi  potor  Homerus 

Dulichium  vexit  per  freta  longa  virum, 
Et  per  monstrificam  Perseisa  Plioebados  aulam, 

Et  vada  foemineis  insidiosa  sonis, 
Perque  tuas,  rex  ime,  domos,  ubi  sanguine  nigro 

Dicitur  umbrarum  detinuisse  greges. 
Diis  etenim  sacer  est  vates,  divumque  sacerdos, 

Spirat  et  occultum  pectus,  et  ora  Jovein. 
At  tu  siquid  again  scitabere,  (si  mod6  saltern 

Esse  putas  tanti  noscere  siquid  again.) 
Paciferum  canimus  coelesti  semine  regem, 

Faustaque  sacratis  saBcula  pacta  libris, 
Vagitumque  Dei,  et  stabulantem  paupere  tecto 

Qui  suprema  suo  cum  patre  regna  colit, 
Stelliparumque  polurn,  modulantesque  fflthere  turmas, 

Et  subit6  elisos  ad  sua  fana  Deos. 
Dona  quidem  dedimus  Christi  natalibus  ilia, 

Ilia  sub  auroram  lux  mihi  prima  tulit. 
Te  quoque  pressa  manent  patriis  meditata  cicutis, 

Tu  mihi,  cui  recitem,  judicis  instar  eris. 


ELEGIA  SEPTIMA. 
ANNO  ^ETATIS  19. 


NOXDUM  blanda  tuas  leges,  Amathusia,  n6ram, 
Et  Papliio  vacuum  pectus  ab  igne  fuit. 


POEMATA. 


535 


Sajpe  cupidineas,  puerilia  tela,  sagittas, 

Atque  tuum  sprevi  maxime  numen  Amor, 
Tu  puer  imbelles,  dixi,  transfige  columbas, 

Conveniunt  tenero  mollia  bella  duel. 
Aut  de  passeribus  tumidos  age,  parve,  triumphos, 

Haec  sunt  militia  digna  trophaea  tuae. 
In  genus  humanum  quid  inania  dirigis  arma  ? 

Non  valet  in  fortes  ista  pharetra  viros. 
Non  tulit  hoc  Cyprius,  (neque  enim  Deus  ullus  ad  iras 

Promptior,)  et  duplici  jam  ferus  igne  calet. 
Yer  erat,  et  summas  radians  per  culmina  villse 

Attulerat  primam  lux  tibi,  Maie,  diem  : 
At  mini  adhuc  refugam  quaerebant  lumina  noctem, 

Nee  matutinem  sustinuere  jubar. 
Astat  Amor  lecto,  pictis  Amor  impiger  alis, 

Prodidit  astantem  moto  pharetra  Deurn ; 
Prodidit  et  facies,  et  dulce  minantis  ocelli, 

Et  quicquid  puero  dignum  et  Amore  fuit. 
Talis  in  aaterno  juvenis  Sigeius  Olympo 

Miscet  amatori  pocula  plena  Jovi ; 
Aut  qui  formosas  pellexit  ad  oscula  nymphas 

Thiodamantsaus  Naiade  raptus  Hylas. 
Addideratque  iras,  sed  et  has  decuisse  putares, 

Addideratque  truces,  nee  sine  felle,  minas. 
Et  miser  exemplo  sapuisses  tutius,  inquit, 

ISTunc  mea  quid  possit  dextera  testis  eris. 
Inter  et  expertos  vires  numerabere  nostras, 

Et  faciarn  vero  per  tua  damna  fidem. 
Ipse  ego,  si  nescis,  strato  Pythone  superbum 

Edomui  Phoebum,  cessit  et  ille  mihi ; 
Et  quoties  meminit  Peneidos,  ipse  fatetur 

Certius  et  gravius  tela  nocere  mea. 
Me  nequid  adductum  curvare  peri ti  us  arcum, 

Qui  post  terga  solet  vincere  Parthus  eques : 
Cydoni usque  mihi  cedit  venator,  et  ille 

Inscius  uxori  qi    necis  author  erat. 
Est  etiam  nobis  ingens  quoque  victus  Orion, 
Herculeaaque  manus,  Herculeusque  comes. 
Jupiter  ipse  licet  sua  fulmina  torqueat  in  me, 

Haerebunt  lateri  spicula  nostra  Jovis. 
Caetera  quas  dubitas  melius  rnea  tela  docebunt  ? 

Et  tua  non  leviter  corda  patenda  mihi. 
"N"ec  te,  stulte,  tuao  poterunt  defender^  Musaa 


536  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

tibi  Phcebaeus  porriget  anguis  opem. 
Dixit,  et  aurato  quatiens  mucrone  sagittam, 

Evolat  in  tepidos  Cypridos  ille  sinus. 
At  mihi  risuro  tonuit  ferus  ore  minaci, 

Et  mihi  de  puero  non  metus  ullus  erat. 
Et  modd  qua,  nostri  spatiantur  in  urbe  Quirites, 

Et  mod6  villarum  proxima  rura  placent. 
Turba  frequens,  facieque  simillima  turba  dearum 

Splendida  per  medias  itque  reditque  vias. 
Auctaque  luce  dies  gemino  fulgore  coruscat, 

Fallor?  an  et  radios  hinc  quoque  Phoebus  habet? 
Hasc  ego  non  fugi  spectacnla  grata  severus, 

Impetus  et  qu6  me  fert  juvenilis,  agor, 
Lumina  luminibus  male  providus  obvia  misi, 

Neve  oculos  potuit  continnisse  meos. 
Unam  forte  aliis  supereminuisse  notabam, 

Principium  nostri  lux  erat  ilia  mali. 
Sic  Venus  optaret  mortalibus  ipsa  videri, 

Sic  regina  Deum  conspicienda  fuit. 
Hanc  memor  objecit  nobis  malus  ille  Cupido, 

Solus  et  hos  nobis  texuit  ante  dolos. 
Nee  procul  ipse  vafer  latuit,  multaaque  sagittae, 

Et  facis  a  tergo  grande  pependit  onus. 
Nee  mora,  nunc  ciliis  hsesit,  nunc  virginis  ori, 

Insilit  hinc  labiis,  insidet  inde  genis  : 
Et  quascunque  agilis  partes  jaculator  oberrat, 

Hei  mihi,  mille  locis  pectns  inernie  ferit. 
Protinus  insoliti  subierunt  corda  furores, 

Uror  amans  intus  flammaque  totus  eram. 
Interea  misero  quse  jam  mihi  sola  placebat, 

Ablata  est  oculis  non  reditura  meis. 
Ast  ego  progredior  tacite  querebundus,  et  excors, 

Et  dubius  volui  saepe  referre  pedem, 
Findor  et  haec  remanet :  sequitur  pars  altera  votum, 

Raptaque  tarn  subitd  gaudia  flere  juvat. 
Sic  dolet  amissum  proles  Junonia  coalum, 

Inter  Lemniacos  praecipitata  focos. 
Tulis  et  abreptum  solem  respexit,  ad  Orcum 

Vectus  ab  attonitis  Amphiaraus  equis. 
Quid  faciam  infelix,  et  lectu  victus  ?  amores 

Nee  licet  inceptos  ponere,  neve  sequi. 
O  utinam,  spectare  semel  mihi  detur  araatos 

Vultus,  et  coram  tristia  verba  loqui ! 


FOEMATA.  537 

Forsitan  et  duro  non  est  adamante  creata, 

Forte  nee  ad  nostras  surdeat  ilia  preces. 
Crede  mini,  nullus  sic  infeliciter  arsit, 

Ponar  in  exemplo  primus  et  unus  ego. 
Parce,  precor,  teneri  cum  sis  Deus  ales  amoris, 

Pugnent  officio  nee  tua  facta  tuo. 
Jam  tuus  O  certe  est  mihi  formidabilis  arcus, 

Kate  dea,  jaculis  nee  minus  igne  potens : 
Et  tua  fumabunt  nostris  altaria  donis, 

Solus  et  in  superis  tu  mihi  surnmis  eris. 
Deme  meos  tandem,  verum  nee  deme,  furores, 

Nescio  cur,  miser  est  suaviter  omnis  amans : 
Tu  modo  da  facilis,  posthsec  mea  siqua  future  est 

Cuspis  amaturos  figat  ut  una  duos. 


ego,  mente  olim  laeva,  studioque  supino, 

ISTequitia3  posui  vana  trophcea  mea9. 
Scilicet  abreptum  sic  me  malus  impulit  error. 

Indocilisque  setas  prava  magistra  fuit. 
Donee  Socraticos  umbrosa  Academia  rivos 

Prsebuit,  admissum  dedocuitquejugum. 
Protinus  extinctis  ex  illo  tempore  flammis. 

Cincta  rigent  multo  pectora  nostra  gelu. 
Unde  suis  frigus  metuit  puer  ipse  sagittis, 

Et  Diomedeam  vim  timet  ipsa  Venns. 


EPIGRAMMATUM    LIBER. 


IN  PEODITIONEM  BOMBAKDICAM. 

CUM  simul  in  regem  nuper  satrapasque  Britannos 

Ausus  es  infandum,  perfide  Eauxe,  nefas, 
Fallor  ?    An  et  mitis  voluisti  ex  parte  videri, 

Et  pensare  mal&  cum  pietate  scelus  ? 
Scilicet  lios  alti  missurus  ad  atria  coeli, 

Sulphureo  curru  flammivolisque  rotis. 
Qualiter  ille  feris  caput  inviolabile  Parcis 

Liquit  lordanios  turbine  raptus  agros. 


IN  EANDEM. 

SICCINE  tentasti  ccelo  donasse  lacobum 

Qus9  septemgemino  Bellua  monte  lates  ? 
!N"i  meliora  tuum  poterit  dare  munera  numen, 

Parce,  precor,  donis  insidiosa  tuis. 
Ille  quidem  sine  te  consortia  serus  adivit 

Astra,  nee  inferni  pulveris  usus  ope. 
Sic  potius  foedus  in  ccelum  pelle  cucullos, 

Et  quot  habet  brutos  Roman  profana  Deos, 
Xamque  hac  aut  alia  nisi  quemque  adjuveris  arte, 

Crede  mini,  coeli  vix  bene  scandet  iter. 


IN  EANDEM. 

PURGATOEEM  animsB  derisit  liicobus  ignem, 
Et  sine  quo  superurn  non  adeunda  domus. 

Frenduit  hoc  trin5i  monstrum  Latiale  coron^, 
Movit  et  horrificum  cornua  dena  minax. 


POEMATA.  539 

Et  nee  iusultus  ait  temnes  mea  sacra  Britanne : 

Supplicium  spreta  religione  dabis. 
Et  si  stelligeras  unquam  penetraveris  arces, 

N"on  nisi  per  flammas  triste  patebit  iter. 
0  quam  funesto  cecinisti  proxima  vero, 

Verbaque  ponderibus  vix  caritura  suis ! 
prope  Tartareo  sublime  rotatus  ab  igni 

Ibat  ad  setbereas  umbra  perusta  plagas. 


IN  EANDEM. 

QIIEM  mod6  Roma  suis  devoverat  impia  diris, 
Et  Styge  damnarat  Tasnarioque  sinu, 

Hunc,  vice  mutata,  jam  tollere  gestit  ad  astra, 
Et  cupit  ad  superos  evebere  usque  Deos. 


IN  INVENTOKEM 

IAPETIONIDEM  laudavit  cseca  vetustas, 
Qui  tulit  astberearn  solis  ab  axe  facem ; 

At  mihi  major  erit,  qui  lurida  creditur  arma, 
Et  trifidum  fulmen  surripuisse  Jovi. 


AD  LEONORAM  EOM^  CANENTEM. 

AXGELTIS  unicnique  suus  (sic  credite  gentes) 

Obtigit  setbereis  ales  ab  ordinibus. 
Quid  mi  rum,  Leonora,  tibi  si  gloria  major? 

Nam  tua  praasentem  vox  sonat  ipsa  Deurn. 
Aut  Deus,  aut  vacui  certe  mens  tertia  coeli, 

Per  tua  secret6  guttura  serpit  agens  ; 
Serpit  agens,  facilisque  docet  mortalia  corda 

Sensim  irnrnortali  assuescere  posse  sono. 
Qu6d  si  cuncta  quidem  Deus  est,  per  cunctaque  fasus, 

In  te  una  loquitur,  caatera  mutus  habet. 


AD  EANDEM. 


ALTERA  Torquatum  cepit  Leonora  poetam, 
Cujus  ab  insano  cessit  arnore  furens. 


510  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Ah  miser  ille  tuo  quant&  feliciils  sevo 

Perditus,  et  propter  te,  Leonora,  foret ! 
Et  te  Pieria  sensisset  voce  canentem 

Aurea  maternaa  fila  movere  lyrse : 
Quaravis  Dircaeo  torsisset  lumina  Pentheo 

Soavior,  aut  totus  desipuisset  iners, 
Tu  tanien  errantes  caaca  vertigine  sensus 

Voce  eadem  poteras  composuisse  tud, ; 
Et  poteras,  aagro  spirans  sub  corde,  quietem 

Flexanimo  cantu  restituisse  sibi. 


AD  EANDEM. 

CKEDUIA  quid  liquidam  Sirena  Neapoli  jactas, 

Claraque  Parthenopes  fana  Achelo'iados, 
Littoreainque  tua  defunctam  Naiada  ripa, 

Corpora  Chalcidico  sacra  dedisse  rogo  ? 
Ilia  quidem  vivitque,  et  amcen£  Tibridis 

Mutavit  rauci  murmura  Pausilipi. 
Illic  Romulidum  studiis  ornata  secundis, 

Atque  homines  cantu  detinet  atque  Deos. 


APOLOGUS  DE  RUSTICO  ET  HERO. 

RUSTIOUS  ex  malo  sapidissima  poma  quotannis 

Legit,  et  urbano  lecta  dedit  Domino  ; 
Hinc  incredibili  fructus  dulcedine  captus, 

Malum  ipsam  in  proprias  transtulit  areolas. 
Hactenus  ilia  ferax,  sed  longo  debilis  aavo, 

Mota  solo  assueto,  protinus  aret  iners. 
Quod  tandem  ut  patuit  Domino,  spe  lusus  inani, 

Damnavit  celeres  in  sua  damna  manus  ; 
Atque  ait,  "  Heu  quant6  satius  fuit  ilia  Coloni 

(Parva  licet)  grato  dono  tulisse  animo  ! 
Possem  ego  avaritiam  froanare,  gulamque  voraceir. 

Nunc  periere  mihi  et  foetus  et  ipse  parens." 


POEMATA.  541 


AD  CHBISTINAM  SUECOEUM  KEGINAM,  NOMINE 
CKOMWELLI.i 

BELLIPOTENS  virgo,  septem  regina  trionura, 

Christina,  Arctoi'  lucida  stella  poli ! 
Cernis  quas  merui  dura  sub  casside  rugas, 

Utque  senex  armis  impiger  ora  tero ; 
Invia  fatorum  dum  per  vestigia  nitor, 

Exequor  et  populi  fortia  jussa  manu. 
Ast  tibi  submittit  frontem  reverentior  umbra  ; 

Nee  sunt  hi  vultus  regibus  usque  truces. 

1  These  verses  were  sent  to  Christina,  queen  of  Sweden,  with  Cromwell'* 
picture,  and  are  by  some  ascribed  to  Andrew  Marvel,  as  by  others  to  Milton  : 
the  most  probable  opinion  is  that  they  were  Milton's,  being  more  within  hi? 
province  as  L&tln  secretary. 

46 


SYLVARUM  LIBER. 


IN  OBITU.M  PKOCANCELLAKII,  MEDICI. 
ANNO  ^ETATIS  IT. 


PAEEEE  fati  discite  legibus, 

Manusque  Parcsa  jam  date  supplices, 
Qui  pendulum  telluris  orbem 

lapeti  colitis  nepotes. 
Yos  si  relicto  mors  vaga  Taanaro 
Semel  vocarit  flebilis,  heu  morse 

Tentantur  incassum,  dolique  ; 

Per  tenebras  Stygis  ire  certurn  est. 
Si  destinatam  pellere  dextera 
Mortem  valeret,  non  ferus  Hercules, 

Nessi  venenatus  cruore 

^Emathi^  jacuisset  Oeta, 
Nee  fraude  turpi  Palladis  invidse 
Yidisset  occisum  Ilion  Hectora,  aut 

Quem  larva  Pelidis  peremit 

Ense  Locro,  Jove  lacrymante. 
Sic  triste  fatum  verba  Hecateia 
Fugare  possint,  Telegoni  parens 

Yixisset  infamis,  potentique 

^Egiali  soror  usa  virga; 
Numenque  trinum  fallere  si  queant 
Artes  medentum,  ignotaque  gramina, 

Non  gnarus  herbarum  Machaon 

Eurypyli  cecidisset  hasta. 
Lassisset  et  nee  te,  Philyreie, 
Sagitta  Echidnse  perlita  sanguine, 

Nee  tela  te  fulmenque  avitum 

Case  puer  genitricis  alvo. 
Tuque  O  alumno  major  Apolline, 
Gentis  togatas  cui  regimen  datum, 

Frondosa  quern  nunc  Cirrha  luget, 
Et  mediis  Helicon  in  undis, 


POEMATA. 

Jam  pnefuisses  Palladio  gregi  ^ 
Lsetus,  superstes,  nee  sine  gloria, 
Nee  puppe  lustrasses  Charontis 
Horribiles  barathri  recessus. 
At  fila  rupit  Persephone  tua, 
Irata,  cum  te  viderit,  artibus, 
Succoque  pollenti,  tot  atris 

Faucibus  eripuisse  mortis. 
Colende  Praeses,  membra  precor  tua 
Molli  quiescant  cespite,  et  ex  tuo 
Crescant  rossa  calthaaque  busto, 
Purpureoque  hyacinthus  ore. 
Sit  mite  de  te  judicium  ^Eaci, 
Subrideatque  .zEtnm  Proserpina, 
Interque  felices  perennis 
Elysio  spatiere  campo. 


543 


IN  QUINTUM  JSTOVEMBRIS. 

A.NNO  ^TATIS  17. 


JAM  pius  extreme  veniens  lacobus  ab  arcto 
Teucrigenas  populos,  lateque  patentia  regna 
Albiontim  tenuit,  jamque  inviolabile  foedus 
Sceptra  Caledoniis  conjunxerat  Anglica  Scot  is  . 
Pacificusque  novo,  felix  divesque,  sedebat 
In  solio,  occultique  doli  securus  et  hostis  : 
Cum  ferus  ignifluo  regnans  Acheronte  tyrannus, 
Eumenidum  pater,  aethereo  vagus  exul  Olyinpo, 
Forte  per  immensum  terrarum  erraverat  orbem, 
Dinumerans  sceleris  socios,  vernasque  fideles, 
Participes  regni  post  funera  mcesta  futuros  ; 
Hie  tempestates  medio  ciet  ae're  diras, 
Illic  unanimes  odium  struit  inter  amicos, 
Armat  et  invictas  in  mutua  viscera  gentes  ; 
Regnaque  olivifera  vertit  florentia  pace  : 
Et  quoscunque  videt  purse  virtutis  amantes, 
Hos  cupit  adjicere  imperio,  fraudumque  magister 
Tentat  inaccessum  sceleri  corrumpere  pectus, 
Insidiasque  locat  tacitas,  eassesque  latentes 
Tendit,  ut  incautos  rapiat,  seu  Caspia  tigris 
Insequitur  trepidam  deserta  per  avia  prradam 


544  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

.•to  sub  ilium,  et  somno  nictantibus  astris. 
Talibus  infestat  populos  Summanus  et  urbes, 
Cinctus  cnerulesD  fumanti  turbine  flammsa, 
Jamque  fluentisonis  albentia  rupibus  arva 
Apparent,  et  terra  deo  dilecta  marino, 
Cui  nomen  dederat  quondam  Neptunia  proles, 
Amphitryoniaden  qui  non  dubitavit  atrocem, 
^Equore  tranato,  furiali  poscere  bello, 
Ante  expugnata3  crudelia  saacula  Trojoe. 

At  simul  hanc  opibusque  et  festa  pace  beatam 
Aspicit,  et  pingues  donis  Cerealibus  agros, 
Quodque  magis  doluit,  venerantem  numina  veri 
Sancta  Dei  populum,  tandem  suspiria  rupit 
Tartareos  ignes  et  luridum  olentia  sulphur : 
Qualia  Trinacria  trux  ab  Jove  clausus  in  ^Btna 
Efflat  tabifico  monstrosus  ab  ore  Typhceus. 
Ignescunt  oculi,  stridetque  adamantinus  ordo 
Dentis,  ut  armorum  fragor,  ictaque  cuspide  cuspis. 
Atque  "  Pererrato  solum  hoc  lacrymabile  mundo 
Inveni,"  dixit,  "  gens  haac  mihi  sola  rebellis, 
Contemtrixque  jugi,  nostraque  potentior  arte. 
Ilia  tamen,  mea  si  quicquam  tentamina  possunt, 
Non  feret  hoc  impune  diu,  non  ibit  inulta." 
Hactenus ;  et  piceis  liquido  natat  acre  pennis ; 
Qu&  volat,  adversi  prsecursant  agmine  venti, 
Densantur  nubes,  et  crebra  tonitrna  fulgent. 

Jamque  pruinosas  velox  superaverat  Alpes, 
Et  tenet  Ausoniaa  fines :  a  parte  sinistra 
Nimbifer  Appenninus  erat,  priscique  Sabini, 
Dextra  veneficiis  infamis  Hetruria,  nee  non 
Te  furtiva,  Tibris,  Thetidi  videt  oscula  dantem ; 
Hinc  Mavortigensa  consistit  in  arce  Quirini. 
Reddiderant  dubiam  jam  sera  crepuscula  lucem, 
Cum  circumgreditur  totam  Tricoronifer  urbem, 
Panificosque  deos  portat,  scapulisque  virorum 
Evehitur,  prseeunt  submisso  poplite  reges, 
Et  mendicantum  series  longissima  fratrum ; 
Cereaque  in  manibus  gestant  funalia  coeci, 
Cimmeriis  nati  in  tenebris,  vitainque  trahentes. 
Templa  dein  multis  subeunt  lucentia  tssdis 
(Vesper  erat  sacer  iste  Petro)  fremitusque  canentum 
Saepe  tholos  implet  vacuos,  et  inane  locorum. 
Qualiter  exululat  Bromias,  Bromiique  caterva, 


POEMATA.  545 

Orgia  eantantes  in  Echionio  Aracyntho, 
Dum  tremit  attonitus  vitreis  Asopus  in  undis, 
Et  procul  ipse  cav&  responsat  rupe  Oithseron. 

His  igitur  tandem  solenni  more  peractis, 
Nox  senis  amplexus  Erebi  taciturna  reliquit, 
Praecipitesque  impellit  equos  stimnlante  flagello, 
Captum  oculis  Typhlonta,  Melanchaetemque  ferocem, 
Atque  Acherontseo  prognatam  patre  Siopen 
Torpidam,  et  hirsutis  horrentem  Phrica  capill  s. 

Interea  regum  domitor,  Phlegetontius  haeres 
Ingreditur  thalamos,  (neque  enim  secretus  adulter 
Producit  steriles  molli  sine  pellice  noctes,) 
At  vix  composites  somnus  claudebat  ocellos, 
Cum  niger  umbrarum  dominus,  rectorque  silentum, 
Praedatorque  hominum,  fals&  sub  imagine  tectus 
Astitit ;  assumptis  micuerunt  tempora  canis, 
Barba  sinus  promissa  tegit,  cineracea  longo 
Syrmate  verrit  humum  vestis,  pendetque  cucullus 
Vertice  de  raso,  et  ne  quicquam  desit  ad  artes, 
Cannabeo  lumbos  constrinxit  fune  salaces, 
Tarda  fenestratis  figens  vestigia  calceis. 
Tails,  uti  fama  est,  vast£  Franciscus  eremo 
Tetra  vagabatur  solus  per  lustra  ferarum, 
Sylvestrique  tulit  genti  pia  verba  salutis 
Impius,  atque  lupos  domuit,  Libycosque  leones. 

Subdolus  at  tali  Serpens  velatus  amictu 
Solvit  in  has  fallax  ora  execrantia  voces ; 
Dormis,  nate  ?    Etiamne  tuos  sopor  opprimit  artus  ? 
Immemor,  O  fidei,  pecorumque  oblite  tuorum ! 
Dum  cathedram  venerande  tuam,  diademaque  triplex 
Kidet  Hyperboreo  gens  barbara  nata  sub  axe, 
Dumque  pharetrati  spernunt  tua  jura  Eritanni : 
Surge,  age,  surge  piger,  Latius  quern  Caesar  adorat, 
Cui  reserata  patet  convex!  janua  coali, 
Turgentes  animos,  et  fastus  frange  procaces, 
Sacrilegique  sciant,  tua  quid  rnaledictio  possit, 
Et  quid  Apostolicaa  possit  custodia  clavis ; 
Et  memor  Hesperiao  disjectam  ulciscere  classem, 
^Mersaque  Iberorum  lato  vexilla  profundo, 
Sanctorumque  cruci  tot  corpora  fixa  probrosas, 
Thermodoontea  nuper  regnante  puella. 
At  tu  si  tenero  mavis  torpescere  lecto, 
Crescentesque  negas  hosti  contundere  vires, 


540  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Tyrrhenum  implebit  numeroso  milite  pontum, 
naqiie  Avcntino  ponet  fulgentia  colle: 
:,qui;i>  votcrum  franget,  flammisque  cremabit, 
•raque  calcabit  pedibus  tua  colla  profanis, 
Cujus  gaudebant  soleis  dare  basia  reges. 
Nee  tamen  hunc  bellis  et  aperto  Marte  lacesses, 
Irritus  ille  labor :  tu  callidus  utere  fraude : 
Qua3libet  hsereticis  dlsponere  retia  fas  est. 
Jamque  ad  consilium  extremis  rex  magnus  ab  oria 
Patricios  vocat,  et  procerum  de  stirpe  creates, 
Granda9vosque  patres  trabea,  canisque  verendos : 
Hos  tu  membratim  poteris  conspergere  in  auras, 
Atque  dare  in  cineres,  nitrati  pulveris  igne 
JEdibus  injecto,  qu&  convenere,  sub  imis. 
Protinus  ipse  igitur  quoscunque  habet  Anglia  fidos 
Propositi,  factique  mone  :  quisquamne  tuorum 
Audebit  summi  non  jussa  facessere  Papce? 
Perculsosque  metu  subito,  casuque  stupentes 
Invadat  vel  Gallus  atrox,  vel  ssovus  Iberus. 
Saecula  sic  illic  tandem  Mariana  redibunt, 
Tuque  in  belligeros  iterum  dominaberis  Anglos. 
Et  nequid  timeas,  divos  divasque  secundas 
Accipe,  quotque  tuis  celeb rantur  numina  fastis. 
Dixit,  et  adscitos  ponens  malefidus  amictus 
Fugit  ad  infandam,  regnum  illsatabile,  Lethen. 

Jam  rosea  Eoas,  pandens  Tithonia  portas 
Vestit  inauratas  redeunti  lumine  terras ; 
Moestaque  adbuc  nigri  deplorans  funera  nati 
Irrigat  ambrosiis  montana  cacumina  guttis : 
Cum  somnos  pepulit  stellatse  janitor  aulre, 
Nocturnos  visus,  et  soinnia  grata  revolvens. 

Est  locus  88tern£  septus  caligine  noctis, 
Vasta  ruinosi  quondam  fundamina  tecti, 
Nunc  torvi  spelunca  Phoni,  Prodot&que  bilinguis, 
EfFera  quos  uno  peperit  Discordia  partu. 
Hie  inter  c^menta  jacent  prroruptaque  saxa, 
Ossa  inhumata  virum,  et  trajecta  cadavera  ferro ; 
Hie  Dolus  intortis  semper  sedet  ater  ocellis, 
Jurgiaque,  et  stimulis  armata  Calumnia  fauces, 
Et  Furor,  atque  vise  moriendi  mille  videntur, 
Et  Timor,  exsanguisque  locum  circumvolat  Horror, 
Perpetuoque  leves  per  muta  silentia  Manes 
Exululant,  tellus  et  sanguine  conscia  stagnat. 


POEMATA.  547 

Ipsi  etiam  pavidi  latitant  penetralibus  antri 

Et  Phonos,  et  Prodotes,  nulloque  sequente  per  antrura, 

Autrum  horrens,  scopulosum,  atrum  feralibus  uinbris 

Diffugiunt  sontes,  et  retro  lumina  vortunt ; 

Hos  pugiles  KomsB  per  ssecula  longa  fideles 

Evocat  antistes  Babylonius,  atque  ita  fatur : 

"Finibus  occiduis  circumfusum  incolit  sequor 
Gens  exosa  mihi,  prudens  natura  negavit 
Indignam  penitus  nostro  conjungere  mundo : 
Illuc,  sic  jubeo,  celeri  contend! te  gressu, 
Tartareoque  leves  difflentur  pulvere  in  auras 
Et  rex  et  pariter  satrapso,  scelerata  propago : 
Et  quotquot  fidei  caluere  cupidine  verse, 
Consilii  socios  adhibete,  operisque  ministros." 
Finierat,  rigidi  cupide  paruere  gemelli. 

Interea  longo  flectens  curvamine  coelos 
Despicit  aatherea  dominus  qui  fulgurat  arce, 
Vanaque  perversaa  ridet  conamina  turbaa, 
Atque  sui  causara  populi  volet  ipse  tueri. 

Esse  ferunt  spatium,  qua  distat  ab  Aside  terra 
Fertilis  Europe,  et  spectat  Mareotidas  undas ; 
Hie  turris  posita  est  Titanidos  ardua  Famaa, 
^Erea,  lata,  sonans,  rutilis  vicinior  astris 
Quam  superimpositum  vel  Athos  vel  Pelion  Ossae. 
Mille  fores  aditusque  patent,  totidemque  fenestraa, 
Amplaque  per  tenues  translucent  atria  muros : 
Excitat  hie  varies  plebs  agglomerate  susurros ; 
Qualiter  instrepitant  circum  mulctralia  bombis 
Agmina  muscarum,  aut  texto  per  ovilia  junco, 
Dum  canis  aastivum  coeli  petit  ardua  culmen. 
Ipsa  quidem  summ£  sedet  ultrix  matris  in  arce, 
Auribus  innumeris  cinctum  caput  eminet  olli, 
Queis  sonitum  exiguum  trahit,  atque  levissima  captat 
Murmura,  ab  extremis  patuli  confinibus  orbis. 
Nee  tot,  Aristoride  servator  inique  juvencaa 
Isidos,  imniiti  volvebas  lumina  vultu, 
Lumina  non  unquam  tacito  nutantia  somno, 
Lumina  subjectas  late  spectantia  terras. 
Istis  ilia  solet  loca  luce  carentia  ssepe 
Perlustrare,  etiam  radianti  impervia  soli  : 
Millenisque  loquax  auditaque  visaque  linguis 
Cuilibet  effundit  temeraria,  veraque  mendax 
Kunc  minuit,  modo  confictis  sermonibus  auget. 


548  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Sed  tamen  a  nostro  meruisti  carmine  laudes 

l>onum  quo  non  aliud  veracius  ullum, 
Nobis  digna  cani,  nee  te  memorasse  pigebit 
Carmine  tain  longo,  servati  scilicet  Angli 
Officiis  vaga  diva  tuis,  tibi  reddimus  aaqua. 
Te  Deus,  seternos  motu  qui  teraperat  ignes, 
Fulmine  praemisso  alloquitur,  terraque  trementf! 
Fama,  siles  ?    An  te  latet  impia  Papistarum 
Conjurata  cohors  in  meque  meosque  Britannos, 
Et  nova  sceptrigero  casdes  meditata  lacobo  ? 
Nee  plura,  ilia  statim  sensit  mandata  Tonantis, 
Et  satis  ante  fugax  stridentes  induit  alas, 
Induit  et  variis  exilia  corpora  plumis ; 
Dextra  tubam  gestat  Temesseo  ex  aere  sonoram. 
Nee  mora,  jam  pennis  cedentes  remigat  auras, 
Atque  parum  est  cursu  celeres  praevertere  nubes, 
Jam  ventos,  jam  solis  equos  post  terga  reliquit : 
Et  primo  Angliacas,  solito  de  more,  per  urbes 
Ambiguas  voces,  incertaque  murmura  spargit, 
Mox  arguta  dolos,  et  detestabile  vulgat 
Proditionis  opus,  nee  non  facta  horrida  dictu, 
Authoresque  addit  sceleris,  nee  garrula  caacis 
Insidiis  loca  structa  silet ;  stupuere  relatis, 
Et  pariter  juvenes,  pariter  tremuere  puellae, 
Effoetique  senes  pariter,  tantseque  ruinaa 
Sensus  ad  aatatem  subito  penetraverat  omnem. 

Attamen  interea  populi  miserescit  ab  alto 
-^Ethereus  Pater,  et  crudelibus  obstitit  ausis 
Papicolum ;  capti  pcenas  raptantur  ad  acres ; 
At  pia  thura  Deo,  et  grati  solvuntur  honores  ; 
Compita  laata  focis  genialibus  omnia  fumant ; 
Turba  choros  juvenilis  agit :  Quintoque  Novembria 
Kulla  dies  toto  occurrit  celebratior  anno. 


IN  OBITUM  PRJESULIS  ELIENSIS. 
ANNO  JETATIS  17. 

ADHUO  madentes  rore  squalebant  genaa, 

Et  sicca  nondum  lumina 
Adhuc  liquentis  imbre  turgebant  salis, 

Quern  nuper  effudi  pius, 


POEMATA.  549 

Dura  moesta  charo  justa  persolvi  rogo 

Wintoniensis  Prsesulis. 
Cum  centilinguis  Fama  (proh  !  semper  mali 

Cladisque  vera  nuntia) 
Spargit  per  urbes  divitis  Britannise, 

Populosque  Neptune  satos, 
Cessisse  morti,  et  ferreis  sororibus 

Te,  generis  human!  decus, 
Qui  rex  sacrorum  ill£  fuisti  in  insult 

Quse  nonem  Anguillsa  tenet. 
Tune  inquietum  pectus  ir&  protinus 

Ebulliebat  fervid^, 
Tumulis  potentem  saepe  devovens  deam : 

Nee  vota  Naso  in  Ibida 
Concepit  alto  diriora  pectore, 

Graiusque  vates  parcius 
Turpem  Lycambis  execratus  est  dolum, 

Sponsamque  Neobulen  suam. 
At  ecce  diras  ipse  dum  fundo  graves, 

Et  imprecor  neci  necem, 
Audisse  tales  videor  attonitus  sonos 

Leni,  sub  aur&,  flamine : 
"  Caecos  furores  pone,  pone  vitream 

Bilemque  et  irritas  minas, 
Quid  temere  violas  non  nocenda  numina, 

Subitoque  ad  iras  percita  ? 
Non  est,  ut  arbitraris  elusus  miser, 

Mors  atra  Noctis  filia, 
Erebove  patre  creta,  sive  Erinnye, 

Yastove  nata  sub  Chao : 
Ast  ilia  coelo  missa  stellato,  Dei 

Messes  ubique  colligit ; 
Animasque  mole  earned  reconditas 

In  luceni  et  auras  evocat ; 
Ut  cum  fugaces  excitant  Horse  diem 

Themidos  Jovisque  filiae ; 
Et  sempiterni  ducit  ad  vultus  patris ; 

At  justa  raptat  irapios 
Sub  regna  furvi  luctuosa  Tartari, 

Sedesque  subterraneas." 
Hanc  ut  vocantem  Isetus  audivi,  cito 

Foedum  reliqui  carcerem, 
Volatilesque  faustus  inter  milites 


550  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Ad  astra  sublimis  feror : 
Vates  ut  olim  raptus  ad  coelum  senex 

Auriga  currus  ignei. 
Non  me  Bootis  terruere  lucidi 

Sarraca  tar  da  frigore,  aut 
Formidolosi  Scorpionis  brachia, 

Non  ensis,  Orion,  tuns. 
Prsetervolavi  fulgidi  solis  globum, 

Longeque  sub  pedibus  deam 
Vidi  triformem,  dura  coercebat  suos 

Frsenis  dracones  aureis. 
Erraticorum  siderum  per  ordines, 

Per  lac  teas  vehor  plagas, 
Yelocitatem  saape  miratus  novam, 

Donee  nitentes  ad  fores 
Ventum  est  Olyrapi,  et  regiam  crystallinam,  et 

Stratum  smaragdis  atrium. 
Sed  hie  tacebo,  nam  quis  effari  queat 

Oriundus  hurnano  patre, 
Amcenitates  illius  loci  ?    Mihi 

Sat  est  in  geternum  frui. 


NATUBAM.  NON  PATI  SENIUM. 

HEU  quam  perpetuis  erroribus  acta  fatiscit 

Avia  mens  hominum,  tenebrisque  immersa  profundis 

CEdipodioniam  volvit  sub  pectore  noctem ! 

Quaa  vesana  suis  metiri  facta  deorum 

Audet,  et  incisas  leges  adamante  perenni 

Assimilare  suis,  nulloque  solubile  sseclo 

Consilium  fati  perituris  alligat  horis. 

Ergone  marcescet  sulcantibus  obsita  rugis 
Natur®  facies,  et  rerum  publica  mater 
Omniparum  contracta  uterum  sterilescet  ab  SBVO? 
Et  se  fassa  senem,  male  certis  passibus  ibit 
Sidereum  tremebunda  caput  ?     Num  tetra  vetustaa 
Annorumque  aaterna  fames,  squalorque  situsque 
Sidera  vexabunt?     An  et  insatiabile  Tempus 
Esuriet  Coalum,  rapietque  in  viscera  patrem  ? 
Heu,  potuitne  suas  imprudens  Jupiter  arces 
lioc  contra  inunisse  nefas,  et  Temporifl  isto 


POEMATA.  55] 

Exemisse  malo,  gyrosque  dedisse  perennes  ? 
Ergo  erit  ut  quandoque  sono  dilapsa  tremendo 
Convex!  tabulata  ruant,  atque  obvius  ictu 
Stridat  uterque  polus,  superaque  ut  Olympius  aulA 
Decidat,  horribilisque  retecta  Gorgone  Pallas ; 
Qualis  in  ^Egeam  proles  Junonia  Lemnon 
Deturbata  sacro  cecidit  de  limine  coeli  ? 
Tu  quoque,  Phoebe,  tui  casus  imitabere  nati ; 
Praacipiti  curru,  subitaque  ferere  ruina 
Pronus,  et  extincta  fumabit  lampade  Kerens, 
Et  dabit  attonito  feralia  sibila  ponto. 
Tune  etiam  aerei  divulsis  sedibus  Haemi 
Dissultabit  apex,  imoqne  allisa  barathro 
Terrebunt  Stygium  dejecta  Ceraunia  Ditem, 
In  superos  quibus  usus  erat,  fraternaqne  bella. 
At  Pater  omnipotens,  fundatis  fortius  astris, 
Consnluit  rerum  snmma3,  certoqne  peregit 
Pondere  fatorum  lances,  atque  ordine  summo 
Singula  perpetuum  jussit  servare  tenorem. 
Yolvitur  hinc  lapsu  mundi  rota  prima  diurno ; 
Raptat  et  ambitos  socia  vertigine  coelos. 
Tardior  baud  solito  Saturnus,  et  acer  ut  olim 
Fulmineum  rutilat  cristata  casside  Mavors. 
Floridus  seternuni  Phoebus  juvenile  coruscat, 
£Tec  fovet  effoetas  loca  per  declivia  terras 
Devexo  temone  Deus ;  sed  semper  arnica 
Luce  potens  eadem  currit  per  signa  rotarum. 
Surgit  odoratis  pariter  formosus  ab  Indis, 
^Ethereum  pecus  albenti  qui  cogit  Olyinpo, 
Mane  vocans,  et  serus  agens  in  pascua  cceli, 
Temporis  et  gemino  dispertit  regna  colore. 
Fulget,  obitque  vices  alterno  Delia  cornu, 
Cffiruleurnque  ignem  paribus  complectitur  ulnis. 
Nee  variant  elementa  fidem,  solitoque  fragore 
Lurida  perculsas  jaculantur  fulmina  rupes. 
Nee  per  inane  furit  leviori  murmure  Corns, 
Stringit  et  armiferos  sequali  horrore  Gelonos 
Trux  Aquilo,  spiratque  hyemein,  nimbosque  volutat 
Utque  solet,  Siculi  diverberat  ima  Pelori 
Bex  inaris,  et  rauca  circumstrepit  asquora  concha 
Oceani  Tubicen,  nee  vastA  mole  minorem 
^Egeona  ferunt  dorso  Balearica  cete. 
Sed  neque,  Terra,  tibi  ssecli  vigor  ille  vetusti 


MILTON'S    POETICAL   WORKS. 

Priscus  abest,  servatque  suum  Narcissus  odorem, 
Et  puer  ille  suum  tenet  et  puer  ille  decorem, 
Phoebe,  tuusque,  et,  Cypri,  tuus ;  nee  ditior  ollm 
Terra  datum  sceleri  celavit  montibus  auruin 
Conscia,  vel  sub  aquis  gemmas.    Sic  denique  in  ssvuni 
Ibit  cunctarum  series  justissirna  rerum, 
Donee  flamma  orbem  populabitur  ultima,  late 
Circumplexa  polos,  et  vasti  culmina  cceli ; 
Ingentique  rogo  flagrabit  machina  mundi. 


DE  IDEA  PLATONICA  QUEMADMODUM  AR1STOTELES 
INTELLEXIT. 

DIOITE,  sacrorum  presides  nemorum  dese, 
Tuque,  0  noveni  perbeata  numinis 
Meinoria  mater,  quseque  in  irnmenso  procul 
Antro  recunibis  otiosa  -^Eternitas, 
Monumenta  servans,  et  ratas  leges  Jovis, 
Ccelique  fastos  atque  ephemeridas  Deum, 
Quis  ille  primus  cujus  ex  imagine 
Natura  solers  finxit  humanum  genus, 
jfEternus,  incorruptus,  sequaDvus  polo, 
Unusque  et  uni versus,  exemplar  Dei  ? 
Haud  ille  Palladia  gemellus  innubre 
Interna  proles  insidet  menti  Jovis ; 
Sed  quamlibet  natura  sit  communior, 
Tamen  seorsus  extat  ad  morem  unius, 
Et,  mira,  certo  stringitur  spatio  loci ; 
Seu  sempiternus  ille  siderum  comes 
Cceli  pererrat  ordines  decemplicis, 
Citimumve  terris  incolit  lunaa  globum: 
Sive  inter  animas  corpus  adituras  sedens, 
Obliviosas  torpet  ad  Lethes  aquas : 
Sive  in  remota  forte  terrarum  plaga 
Incedit  ingens  hominis  archetypus  gigas, 
Et  diis  tremendus  erigit  celsum  caput 
Atlante  major  portitore  siderum. 
Non  cui  profundum  csacitas  lumen  dedit 
Dircffius  augur  vidit  hunc  alto  sinu ; 
Non  hunc  silente  nocte  Plei'ones  nepos 
Vatum  sagaci  prcepes  ostendit  choro ; 


POEMATA.  553 


Non  hunc  sacerdos  novit  Assyrius,  licet 

Longos  vetusti  commemoret  atavos  Nini, 

Priscumque  Belon,  inclytumque  Osiridem. 

Non  ille  trino  gloriostis  nomine 

Ter  magnus  Hermes  (tit  sit  arcani  sciens) 

Talem  reliqnit  Isidis  cultoribus. 

At  tu,  perenne  ruris  Academi  decus, 

(Hsec  monstra  si  tu  primus  induxti  scholis) 

Jam  jam  poetas,  urbis  exules  tuae, 

Kevocabis,  ipse  fabulator  maximus, 

Aut  institutor  ipse  migrabis  foras. 


AD  PATREM. 

mea  Pierios  cupiam  per  pectora  fontes 
Irriguas  torquere  vias,  totumque  per  or  a 
Volvere  laxatum  gemino  de  vertice  rivum ; 
Ut  tenues  oblita  sonos  audacibus  alis 
Surgat  in  officium  venerandi  Musa  parentis. 
Hoc  utcunque  tibi  gratum,  pater  op  time,  cat-men 
Exiguum  meditatur  opus,  nee  novimus  ipsi 
Aptius  a  nobis  qii89  possint  munera  donis 
Kespondere  tuis,  quamvis  nee  maxima  possint 
"Respondere  tuis,  nedum  ut  par  gratia  donis 
Esse  queat,  vacuis  quaa  redditur  arida  verbis. 
Sed  tamen  heec  nostros  ostendit  pagina  census, 
Et  quod  habemus  opum  charta  numeravimus  ista, 
Quse  milri  sunt  nullse,  nisi  quas  dedit  aurea  Clio, 
Quas  mihi  semoto  somni  peperere  sub  antro, 
Et  nemoris  laureta  sacri  Parnassides  umbra). 
Nee  tu  vatis  opus  divinum  despice  carmen, 
Quo  nihil  sethereos  ortus,  et  semina  cceli, 
Nil  magis  humanam  commendat  origine  mentein, 
Sancta  Prometlieoa  retinens  vestigia  flammoD. 
Carmen  ament  superi,  tremebundaque  Tartara  carmen 
Ima  ciere  valet,  divosque  ligare  profundos, 
Et  triplici  duros  Manes  adamante  coercet. 
Carmine  sepositi  retegunt  arcana  futuri 
Phoebades,  et  tremulsa  pallentes  ora  Sibyllse ; 
Oarmina  sacrificus  sollennes  pangit  ad  aras, 
Aurea  sen  sternit  motantem  cornua  taurum ; 

47 


554  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Seu  cum  fata  sa^rax  fumantibus  abdita  fibris 
Consulit,  ct  tepidis  Parcam  scrutator  in  extis. 
Nos  etiain  patrium  tune  cum  repetemtis  Olympum, 
^Etcrna3que  mora3  stabunt  immobilis  asvi, 
Ibinius  auratis  per  coeli  templa  coronis, 
Dulcia  suaviloquo  socialites  carmina  plectro, 
Astra  quibus,  geminique  poli  convexa  sonabunt. 

iritus  et  rapidos  qui  circinat  igneus  orbes, 
Nunc  quoque  sidereis  intercinit  ipse  clioreis 
Immortale  melos,  et  inenarrabile  carmen ; 
Torrida  dum  rutilus  corapescit  sibila  serpens, 
Demissoque  ferox  gladio  mansuescit  Orion ; 
Stellarum  nee  sentit  onus  Maurusius  Atlas. 
Carmina  regales  epulas  ornare  solebant, 
Cum  nonduin  luxus,  vastasque  immensa  vorago 
Nota  guise,  et  modico  spumabat  coena  Lyseo. 
Turn  de  more  sedens  festa  ad  convivia  vates, 
^Escule^  intonsos  redimitus  ab  arbore  crines, 
Heroumque  actus,  imitandaque  gesta  canebat, 

jt  chaos,  et  positi  late  fundamina  mundi, 
Reptantesque  deos,  et  alentes  numina  glandes, 

It  nondum^tngeo  quaesituin  fulmen  ab  antro. 
Denique  quid  vocis  modulamen  inane  juvabit, 
Verborum  sensusque  vacans,  numerique  loquacis  ? 

lyestres  decet  iste  choros,  non  Orphea  cantus 
Qui  tenuit  fluvios  et  quercubus  addidit  aures 
Carmine,  non  citharft,  simulachraque  functa  canendo 
Uompuht  in  lacrjmas;  habet  has  a  carmine  laudes. 

fleo  tu  perge,  precor,  sacras  contemnere  Musas, 
^  ec  vanas  mopesque  puta,  quarum  ipse  peritus 

\r!r?re'  mille  sonos  numeros  componis  ad  aptos 
hbus  et  vocem  modulis  variare  canoram 
Jtus,  Arionii  meritd  sis  nominis  haares. 
tibi  quid  minim,  si  me  genuisse  poetam 
prit,  charo  si  tarn  prope  sanguine  iuncti 
^ognatas  artes,  studiumque  affine  sequamur? 
Jpse  volens  Phoebus  se  dispertire  duobus 
Altera  dona  rnihi,  dedit  altera  dona  parenti, 
Dividuumque  Deurn  genitorque  puerque  tenemus. 
bunea  ut  simules  teneras  odisse  Camoenas 
or  neque  enim,  pater,  ire  jubebas 
yu^  via  lata  patc-t,  qua  pronior  area  lucri, 
taque  condendi  lulget  spes  aurea  nummi  • 


POEMATA.  55.5 

rapis  ad  leges,  male  custoditaque  gentis 
Jura,  nee  insulsis  damnas  clamoribus  aures : 
Sed  magis  excultam  cupiens  ditescere  mentem, 
Me  procul  urbano  strepitu,  secessibus  altis 
Abductum,  Aoniaa  jucunda  per  otia  ripae, 
Phoebaeo  later!  comitem  sinis  ire  beatum. 
Officiuin  chari  taceo  commune  parentis, 
Me  poscunt  majora :  tuo,  pater  optime,  sumptn 
Cum  mihi  Romuleso  patuit  facundia  lingua, 
Et  Latii  veneres,  et  qusa  Jovis  ora  decebant 
Grandia  magniloquis  elata  vocabula  Graiis, 
Add  ere  suasisti  quos  jactat  Gallia  flores, 
Et  quam  degeneri  novus  Italus  ore  loquelam 
Fundit,  barbaricos  testatus  voce  tumultus, 
Quaaque  Palsestinus  loquitur  mysteria  vates. 
Denique  quicquid  habet  coelum,  subjectaque  coelo 
Terra  parens,  terrajque  et  coelo  interfluus  aer, 
Quicquid  et  unda  tegit,  pontique  agitabile  marnior, 
Per  te  nosse  licet,  per  te,  si  nosse  libebit. 
Dimotaque  venit  spectanda  scientia  nube, 
ISTudaque  conspicuos  inclinat  ad  oscula  vultus, 
Ki  fugisse  velim,  ni  sit  libasse  molestum. 

I  nunc,  confer  opes,  quisquis  malesanus  avitas 
Austriaci  gazas,  Periianaque  regna,  praeoptas. 
Quaa  potuit  majora  pater  tribuisse,  vel  ipse 
Jupiter,  excepto,  donasset  ut  omnia,  coelo  ? 
Non  potiora   dedit,  quamvis  et  tuta  fuissent, 
Publica  qui  juveni  commisit  lumina  nato 
Atque  Hyperionios  currus,  et  fraana  diei, 
Et  circum  undantem  radiata  luce  tiaram. 
Ergo  ego  jam  doctaa  pars  quamlibet  ima  cater vaa 
Victrices  hederas  inter,  laurosque  sedebo, 
Jamque  nee  obscurus  populo  miscebor  inerti, 
Vitabuntque  oculos  vestigia  nostra  profanos. 
Este  procul  vigiles  curaa,  procul  este  querelaa, 
Invidiseque  acies  transverso  tortilis  hirquo, 
Saava  nee  anguiferos  extende  calumnia  rictus ; 
In  me  triste  nihil  foedissima  turba  potestis, 
Nee  vestri  sum  juris  ego ;  securaque  tutus 
Pectora,  vipereo  gradiar  sublimis  ab  ictu. 

At  tibi,  chare  pater,  postquam  non  aequa  merenti 
Posse  referre  datur,  nee  dona  rependere  factis, 
Sic  memorasse  satis,  repetitaqu-e  munera  grato 


556  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Percensere  ammo,  ficloeque  reponere  menti. 

Et  vos,  O  nostri,  juvenilia  carmina,  lusus, 
Si  uiodo  perpetuos  sperare  audebitis  annos, 
Et  domini  superesse  rogo,  lucemque  tueri, 
Nee  spisso  rapient  oblivia  nigra  sub  Oreo, 
Forsitan  has  laudes,  decantatumque  parentis 
Nomen,  ad  exemplum,  sero  servabitis  aevo. 


PSALM  CXIV. 

ISPAXHA  ore  iratoes,  or'  ayXaa  0C\'  fla*c(ij3ow 
A.lyvimQV.  Xixe  dfjuov,  d*C%9&,  Pap&ap6<put>ovt 
A>7  r6r£  povvov  etjv  ooiov  yevos  vies  'lovfia. 
*Ei;  ^f  debg  AaoTcrt  //fya  Kpeiwv  ftaai\tvtv. 
Etfo,  Kal  fvTpoirdSrjv  0uya<5'  tppurjvs  QaXaaaa 
Kw/zart  slXvplvrj  podiw,  66'  af)' 
'JpSj  'lopddvTjs  TTOTI  dpyvpo£i6(a 


a<f>piy6<avT£S  {&pa<f>tp<f  I 
t  5'  a//a  irdo-ai  dvaaKtpTrjffav  ipiTrvas, 
Ola  xapal  vvpiyyi  QtXji  u;rd  /i^r/pi  apvts. 
TixTC  oiy',  alva  BdXatraa^  viXwp 
fiodiut  ;  ri  6'  ap' 
'lopSdvrj  Ttorl  dpyvpoeiSla 
'  opca  aKa^Q^olcfLV  airtipiaia 
Sis  Kpiol  fftypiydwi'TTjs  fDrpa0£f><3  iv  dXwrj  ; 
"Baiorepai  TI  6'  ap'  u/xjue?  dvaaKiprrjaa^  iftifvatt 
O7a  TTapai  aiJptyyt  0t'X/7  viro  [JLTjTfpi  apves  J 
Se(£o  yaca  rpiovaa  Oebv  //cyaX1  t 
BaTa  6cbv  Tptiovtr*  Zitarov  cffias  'i 

'Os  TC  KOI  £K  CTTTlXa^WV  TTOTa/JLOVS  %f£ 

*  dtvabv  iriTprjs  dirb 


PhilosopJius  ad  regem  quendam,  qui  eum  ignotum  et  insontem 
inter  reos  forte   captum  inscius    datnnaverat,   TTJV  lift  Oavdrtf 
o 


*opcv6ncvos,  hczc  subito  misit. 


'il  ova,  tl  &\e<rrjs  /*£  rbv  cvvofiov,  oiitif  TIV*  dvtp&v 
Aetvbv  oXb)s  dpdaavTa,  ccxpwraTov  1061  Kaprjvov 
d<ptXoio,  Tb  6'  KffTCpov  avOt  vorjcreis, 
s  5'  ap'  (TreiTa  rtbv  irpbs  Ovpbv  3^Vp9i 
Totbv  6'  tie  ~6\tos  7T£f»(ivu//ov  a'X/cap  <5Xfacraf. 


POEMATA.  *  557 


In  fjfigid  ejas  Sculptorem. 


u  yeypdQat  %ti 
rax  ""»  *?<>$  ^oj 
Tov  <5'  (KTvirwrbv  OVK  fxiyvores  ^f' 
<pavXov 


AD  SALSILLUM,  POETAM  EOMANUM,  ^IGEOTANTEM. 

SCAZONTES. 

O  MUSA  grcssum  quae  volens  trahis  claudum, 
Vulcanioque  tarda  gandes  incessu, 
!N"ec  sentis  illud  in  loco  minus  gratum, 
Quam  cum  decentes  flava  Dei'ope  suras 
Alternat  aureum  ante  Junonis  lectum, 
Adesdum  et  hsec  s'  is  verba  pauca  Salsillo 
Kefer,  Camoena  nostra  cui  tantum  est  cordi, 
Quamque  ille  magnis  praetulit  immerit6  divis. 
Hsec  ergo  alumnus  ille  Londini  Milto, 
Diebus  hisce  qui  suum  linquens  nidum 
Polique  tractum,  (pessimus  ubi  ventorum, 
Insanientis  impotensque  pulmonis, 
Pernix  anhela  svb  Jove  exercet  flabra,) 
Yenit  feraces  Itali  soli  ad  glebas, 
Yisum  superba  cognitas  urbes  fama 
Yirosque  doctsaque  indolem  juventutis. 
Tibi  optat  idem  hie  fausta  multa  Salsille, 
Habitumque  fesso  corpori  penitus  sanum ; 
Cui  nunc  profunda  bilis  infestat  renes, 
Pra3cordiisque  fixa  damnosum  spirat. 
!N"ec  id  pepercit  impia  qu5d  tu  Romano 
Tarn  cultus  ore  Lesbium  condis  melos. 

O  dulce  divum  munus,  O  Salus,  Hebes 
Germana !  Tuque  Phcebe  morborum  terror, 
Pythone  ca3so,  sive  tu  magis  Paean 
Libenter  audis,  hie  tuus  sacerdos  est. 
Querceta  Fauni,  vosque  rore  vinoso 
Colles  benigni,  mitis  Evandri  sedes, 
Siquid  salubre  vallibus  frondet  vestris, 
Levamen  segro  ferte  certatim  vati. 
Sic  ille  charis  redditus  rursum  Musis 


558  .MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Vicina  dulci  prata  raulcebit  cantu. 
Ipse  inter  atros  emirabitur  lucos 
Numa,  ubi  beatum  degit  otium  seternum, 
Suam  reclinis  semper  ^geriam  spectans. 
Tumidusque  et  ipse  Tibris,  hinc  delinitus, 
Spei  favebit  annuae  colonorum  : 
Nee  in  sepulchris  ibit  obsessum  reges 
Nimium  sinistro  laxus  irruens  loro : 
Sed  fraena  rnelius  temperabit  undarum, 
Adusqtie  curvi  falsa  regna  Portumni. 


MANSUS. 

Joannes  BaptistaMansus  Marchio  Villensis,  vir  ingenii  laude,  turn  litter  arum 
studio,  nee  non  et  bellica  virtute,  apud  Italos  clarus  in  primis  est.  Ad  quern 
Torquati  Tassi  Dialogus  extat  de  Amicitia  scriptus;  erat  enim  Tassi  amicissi- 
tnus;  ab  quo  etiam  inter  Campaniffi  principes  celebratur,  in  illo  poemato 
cui  titulus  Gerusalemme  Conquistata,  lib.  20  — 

"Fra  cavalier  magnanimi,  e  cortesi 
Eisplende  il  Manso"  — 

is  authorem  Neapoli  commorantem  suinma  benevolentia  prosecutus  est, 
multaque  ei  detulit  humanitatis  officia.  Ad  hunc  itaque  hospes  ille  ante- 
quam  ab  ea  urbe  discederet,  ut  ne  ingratum  se  ostenderet,  hoc  carmen  rnisit. 


quoque,  Manse,  tuse  meditantur  carmina  laudi 
Pierides,  tibi,  Manse,  choro  notissime  Phoebi, 
Quandoquidem  ille  alium  baud  sequo  est  dignatus  honore, 
Post  Galli  cineres,  et  Mecssnatis  Hetrusci. 
Tu  quorae,  si  nostr89  tantum  valet  aura  Camoenae, 
Victrices  hederas  inter,  laurosque  sedebis. 
Te  pridem  magno  felix  concordia  Tasso 
Junxit,  et  aaternis  inscripsit  nomina  chartis  ; 
Mox  tibi  dulciloquura  non  inscia  Musa  Marinum 
Tradidit,  ilia  tuum  dici  se  gaudet  alumnum, 
Dum  canit  Assyrios  diviim  prolixus  amores  ; 
Mollis  et  Ausonias  stupefecit  carmine  nympbas. 
Ille  itidem  moriens  tibi  soli  debita  vates 
Ossa,  tibi  soli,  supremaque  vota  reliquit  : 
Nee  manes  pietas  tua  cbara  fefellit  amici, 
Vidimus  arridentem  operoso  ex  aere  poetam. 
Nee  satis  hoc  visum  est  in  utrumque,  et  nee  pia  cessant 
Officia  in  tumulo,  cupis  integros  r.ipere  Oreo, 


F OEM ATA.  550 

Qua  poles,  atque  avidas  Parcarum  eludere  leges : 
Amborum  genus,  et  varia  sub  forte  peractam 
Describis  vitam,  moresque,  et  dona  Minervse ; 
^Emulus  illius  Mycalen  qui  natus  ad  altam 
Rettulit  ^Eolii  vitam  facundus  Horneri. 
Ergo  ego  te,  Clius  et  magni  nomine  Phoebi, 
Manse  pater,  jubeo  longum  salvere  per  aevum 
Missus  Hyperboreo  juvenis  peregrinus  ab  axe. 
Xeo  tu  longinquam  bonus  aspernabare  Musam, 
QUSB  nuper  gelida  vix  enutrita  sub  Arcto 
Imprudens  Italas  ausa  est  volitare  per  urbes. 
£Tos  etiam  in  nostro  modulantes  fiumine  cygnos 
Credimus  obscuras  noctis  sensisse  per  umbras, 
Qua  Thamesis  late  puris  argenteus  urnis 
Oceani  glaucos  perfundit  gurgite  crines : 
Quin  et  in  has  quondam  pervenit  Tityrus  oras. 

Sed  neque  nos  genus  incultum,  nee  inutile  Phoebo, 
Qua  plaga  septeno  mundi  snlcata  Trione 
Brumalem  patitur  longa  sub  nocte  Booten. 
Nos  etiam  colimus  Phoebum,  nos  munera  Plioebo 
Flaventes  spicas,  et  lutea  mala  canistris, 
Halantemque  crocum  (perhibet  nisi  vana  vetustas) 
Misimus,  et  lectas  Druidum  de  gente  choreas. 
(Gens  Druides  antiqua  sacris  operata  deorum 
Heroum  laudes  imitandaque  gesta  canebant) 
Hinc  quoties  festo  cingunt  altaria  cantu, 
Delo  in  herbosa,  Graisa  de  more  puellse, 
Carminibus  Isetis  memorant  Corineida  Loxo, 
Fatidicamque  Upin,  cum  flavicoma  Hecaerge, 
Nuda  Caledonio  variatas  pectora  fuco. 

Fortunate  senex,  ergo,  quacunque  per  orbem 
Torquati  decus,  et  nornen  celebrabitur  ingens, 
Claraque  perpetui  succrescet  fama  Marini, 
Tu  quoque  in  ora  frequens  venies  plausumque  viroruin, 
Et  parili  carpes  iter  immortale  volatu. 
Dicetur  turn  sponte  tuos  habitasse  penates 
Cynthius,  et  famulas  venisse  ad  limina  Musas : 
At  non  sponte  domum  tamen  idem,  et  regis  adivit 
Rura  Pheretiadae,  ca9lo  fugitivus  Apollo ; 
Ille  licet  magnum  Alciden  susceperat  hospes , 
Tantum  ubi  clamosos  placuit  vitare  bubulcos, 
Nobile  mansueti  cessit  Chironis  in  antrum, 
Irriguos  inter  saltus,  frondosaque  tecta, 


560  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Peneium  prope  rivnm :  ibi  srcpe  sub  ilice  nigra, 
Ad  citharco  strepitum,  bland£  prece  victus  ainici 
Exilii  duros  lenibat  voce  labores. 
Turn  neque  ripa  suo,  barathro  nee  fixa  sub  imo 
Saxa  stetere  loco,  nutat  Tracliinia  rupes, 
Nee  sentit  solitas,  hnmania  pondera,  silvas, 
Emotajque  suis  properant  de  collibus  orni, 
Mulcenturque  novo  maculosi  carmine  lynces. 

Diis  dilecte  senex,  te  Jupiter  aequus  oportet . 
Xascentem,  et  miti  lustrarit  lumine  Phoebus, 
Atlantisque  nepos ;  neque  enim  nisi  charus  ab  ortu 
Diis  superis  poterit  magno  favisse  poetsa. 
Hinc  longaava  tibi  lento  sub  flore  senectus 
Vernat,  et  ^Esonios  lucratur  vivida  fusos, 
Nondum  deciduos  servans  tibi  frontis  honores, 
Ingeniumque  vigens,  et  adultum  mentis  acumen. 
O  mihi  si  inea  sors  talem  concedat  aniicum, 
Phoebasos  decorasse  viros  qui  tarn  bene  n6rit, 
Si  quando  indigenas  revocabo  in  carmina  reges, 
Arturumque  etiam  sub  terris  bella  moventern  ; 
Aut  dicam  invictfe  sociali  foedere  mensoa 
Magnanimos  heroas,  et  (O  modo  spiritus  adsit!) 
Frangam  Saxonicas  Britonum  sub  Marte  phalanges. 
Tandem  ubi  non  tacita3  permensus  tempora  vitse, 
Annorumque  satur,  cineri  sua  jura  relinquam, 
Ille  mihi  lecto  madidis  astaret  ocellis, 
Astanti  sat  erit  si  dicam  sim  tibi  curse ; 
Ille  meos  artus,  liventi  morte  solutos, 
Curaret  parvet  componi  inolliter  urna. 
Forsitan  et  nostros  ducat  de  marmore  vultus, 
Nectens  aut  Paphia  myrti  aut  Parnasside  lauri 
Fronde  comas,  at  ego  secura  pace  quiescam. 
Turn  quoque,  si  qua  fides,  si  praemia  certa  bonorum, 
Ipse  ego  ccelicolum  semotus  in  sethera  divum, 
Qu6  labor  et  mens  pura  vehunt,  atque  ignea  virtus, 
Secreti  hs8c  aliqua  mundi  de  parte  videbo, 
(Quantum  fata  sinunt :)  et  tota  mente  serenum 
Eidens  purpureo  suffundar  lumine  vultus, 
Et  simul  sethereo  plaudam  mihi  laatus  Olympo. 


POEMATA.  561 


EPITAPHIUM  DAMONIS. 

ARGTTMEXTTTM. 

Tbyrsis  et  Damon  ejusdem  viciniaa  pastores,  eadem  studia  sequuti  a 
pueritia  amici  erant,  ut  qui  plurimum.  Thyrsis  animi  causa  profectus  pere- 
grd  de  obitu  Damonis  nuncium  accepit  Domum  postea  reversus,  et  rem 
ita  esse  comperto,  se  suamque  solitudinem  hoc  carmine  deplorat.  Daino.'.is 
autem  sub  persona  hie  intelligitur  Carolus  Deodatus  ex  urbe  Hetrurise  Lueu 
oaterno  genere  oriundus,  caetera  Anglos;  ingenio,  doctrina,  clarissimisquo 
eseteris  virtutibus,  dum  viveret,  juvenis  egregius. 

HIMERIDES  nymphs  (nam  vos  et  Daplmin  et  Hylan, 
Et  plorata  diu  meministis  fata  Bionis) 
Dicite  Sicelicum  Thamesina  per  oppida  carmen : 
Quas  miser  effudit  voces,  quaa  murmura  Thyrsis, 
Et  quibus  assiduis  exereuit  antra  querelis, 
Flurainaque,  fontesque  vagos,  nemorumque  recessus, 
Dum  sibi  praQruptuui  queritur  Damona,  neque  altam 
Luctibus  exemit  noctera  loca  sola  pererrans. 
Et  jam  bis  viridi  surgebat  culmus  arista, 
Et  totidem  flavas  numerabant  horrea  messes, 
Ex  quo  summa  dies  tulerat  Damona  sub  umbras, 
Nee  dum  aderat  Thyrsis ;  pastorem  scilicet  ilium 
Dulcis  amor  Musaa  Thusca  retinebat  in  urbe. 
Ast  ubi  mens  expleta  domum,  pecorisque  relicti 
Cura  vocat,  simul  assuetA  seditque  sub  ulmo, 
Turn  ver6  amissum  turn  denique  sentit  amicum, 
Coepit  et  immensum  sic  exonerare  dolorem. 

Ite  domum  impasti,  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
Hei  mihi!  quaa  terris,  quse  dicam  numina  coelo, 
Postquam  te  immiti  rapuerunt  funere,  Damon ! 
Si^cine  nos  linquis,  tua  sic  sine  nomine  virtus 
Ibit,  et  obscuris  numero  sociabitur  umbris  ? 
At  non  ille,  animas  virga  qui  dividit  aurea, 
Ista  welit,  dignumque  tui  te  ducat  in  agmen, 
Ignavumque  procul  pecus  arceat  oinne  silentum. 

Ite  domum  impasti,  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
Quicquid  erit,  certe,  nisi  me  lupus  ante  videbit, 
Indeplorato  non  comminuere  sepulchre, 
Constabitque  tuus  tibi  honos,  longumque  vigebit 
Inter  pastores :  illi  tibi  vota  secundo 
Solvere  post  Daphnin,  post  Daphnin  dicere  laudes 
Gaudebunt,  dum  rura  Pales,  dum  Faunus  amabit : 


562  MILTON'S  POETICAL 

Si  quid  id  est,  priscamque  fidem  coluisse,  piumque, 
Palladiasque  artes,  sociumque  habuisse  canorum. 

Ite  domum  impasti,  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
Haec  tibi  certa  manent,  tibi  ertint  hsec  prsemia,  Damon, 
At  mihi  quid  tandem  fiet  modo  ?  quis  mini  fidus 
Hoarebit  lateri  comes,  ut  tu  saspe  solebas 
Frigoribus  duris,  et  per  loca  foeta  pruinis, 
Aut  rapido  sub  sole,  siti  morientibus  herbis ; 
Sive  opus  in  magnos  fuit  eminus  ire  leones, 
Aut  avidos  terrere  lupos  prsesepibus  altis, 
Quis  fando  sopire  diem,  cantuque  solebit  ? 

Ite  domum  impasti,  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
Pectora  oui  credam  ?  quis  me  lenire  docebit 
Mordaces  curas,  quis  longam  fallere  noctem 
Dulcibus  alloquiis,  grato  cum  sibilat  igni 
Molle  pyrum,  et  nucibus  strepitat  focus,  et  malus  auster 
Miscet  cuncta  foris,  et  desuper  intonat  ulmo  ? 

Ite  domum  impasti,  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
Aut  restate,  dies  medio  dum  vertitur  axe, 
Cum  Pan  aasculek  somnum  capit  abditus  umbrA, 
Et  repetunt  sub  aquis  sibi  nota  sedilia  nymphaa, 
Pastoresque  latent,  stertit  sub  sepe  colonus, 
Quis  mibi  blanditiasque  tuas,  quis  turn  mibi  risus, 
Cecropiosque  sales  referet,  cultosque  lepores  ? 

Ite  domum  impasti,  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
At  jam  solus  agros,  jam  pascua  solus  oberro, 
Sicubi  ramosae  densantur  vallibus  umbraa, 
Hie  serum  expecto,  supra  caput  imber  et  Eurus 
Triste  sonant,  fractaeque  agitata  crepuscula  sylvae. 

Ite  domum  impasti,  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
Heu,  quam  culta  mihi  prius  arva  procacibus  herbis 
Involvuntur,  et  ipsa  situ  seges  alta  fatiscit  I 
Innuba  neglecto  marcescit  et  uva  racemo, 
Nee  myrteta  juvant ;  ovium  quoque  tsedet,  at  ill® 
Moerent,  inque  suum  convertunt  ora  magistrum. 

Ite  domum  impasti,  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
Tityrus  ad  corylos  vocat,  Alphesiboaus  ad  ornos, 
Ad  salices  -^Egon,  ad  flumina  pulcher  Amyntas, 
u  Hie  gelidi  fontes,  hie  illita  gramina  musco, 
Hie  Zephyri,  hie  placidas  interstrepit  arbutus  undas  ;" 
Ista  canunt  surdo,  frutices  ego  nactus  abibam. 

Ite  domum  impasti,  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
Mopsus  ad  haec,  nam  me  redeuntem  forte  notarat, 


POEMATA.  563 

(Et  callebat  avium  linguas,  et  sidera  Mopsus,) 
"  Thyrsi  quid  hoc?"  dixit,  Uqu89  te  coquit  improbabilis  ? 
Ant  te  perdit  amor,  ant  te  male  fascinat  astrum, 
Saturni  grave  ssepe  fuit  pastoribus  astrum, 
Intimaque  obliquo  figit  prsecordia  plumbo." 

Ite  domnm  impasti,  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
Mirantur  nymph®,  et  "quid  te,  Thyrsi,  futurum  est? 
Quid  tibi  vis  ?"  aiunt,  "  non  haec  solet  esse  juventce 
Xnbila  frons,  oculique  truces,  vultusque  severi, 
Ilia  chores,  lususque  leves,  et  semper  amorem 
Jure  petit,  bis  ille  miser  qui  serus  amavit." 

Ite  domnm  impasti,  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
Venit  Hyas,  Dryopeque,  et  filia  Baucidis  ^Egle, 
Docta  modos,  citharasque  sciens,  sed  perdita  fastu, 
Venit  Idumanii  Chloris  vicina  fluenti ; 
Nil  me  blanditise,  nil  me  solantia  verba, 
Nil  me,  si  quid  adest,  movet,  ant  spes  ulla  futuri. 

Ite  domum  impasti,  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
Hei  mini,  quam  similes  ludunt  per  prata  juvenci, 
Omnes  unanimi  secum  sibi  lege  sodales! 
ISTec  magis  hunc  alio  quisquam  secernit  amicum 
De  grege,  si  densi  veniunt  ad  pabula  thoes, 
Inque  vicem  hirsuti  paribus  junguntur  onagri ; 
Lex  eadem  pelagi,  deserto  in  littore  Proteus 
Agmina  phocarum  numerat,  vilisque  volucrum 
Passer  habet  semper  quicum  §it,  et  omnia  circum 
Farra  libens  volitet,  sero  sua  tecta  revisens, 
Quern  si  sors  letho  objecit,  sen  milvus  adunco 
Fata  tulit  rosero,  sen  stravit  arundine  fossor, 
Protinus  ille  alium  socio  petit  inde  volatu. 
£Tos  durum  genus,  et  diris  exercita  fatis 
Gens  homines  aliena  animis,  et  pectore  discors, 
Vix  sibi  quisque  parem  de  nrillibus  invenit  unum, 
Aui  si  sors  dederit  tandem  non  aspera  votis, 
Ilium  inopina  dies  qua  non  speraveris  hora, 
Surripit,  eeternum  linquens  in  saecula  damnum. 

Ite  domum  impasti,  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
Hen  quis  me  ignotas  traxit  vagus  error  in  oras 
Ire  per  aereas  rupes,  Alpemque  nivosam ! 
Ecquid  erat  tanti  Roman  vidisse  sepultam. 
(Quam vis  ilia  foret,  qualem  dum  viseret  olim, 
Tityrus  ipse  suas  et  oves  et  rura  reliquit ;) 
Ut  te  tain  dulci  possem  caruisse  sodale, 


5G4  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Possein  tot  raaria  alta,  tot  interponere  monies, 
Tot  sylvas,  tot  saxa  tibi,  fluviosque  sonantes ! 
Ah  certe  extremuin  licuisset  tangere  dextrarar 
Et  bene  compositos  placide  morientis  ocellos, 
Et  dixisse,  "  Yale,  noslri  memor  ibis  ad  astra." 

Ite  domum  impasti,  domino  jam  non  vacat.  agni. 
Quamquam  etiam  vestri  mmquam  meminisse  pigebit, 
Pastores  Thusci,  Musis  operata  juventus, 
Hie  Charis,  atque  Lepos ;  et  Thuscus  tu  quoque,  Damon, 
Antiqua  genus  unde  petis  Lucumonis  ab  urbe. 
O  ego  quantus  erani,  gelidi  cum  stratus  ad  Ami 
Murmura,  populeumque  nemus,  qua  mollior  berba, 
Oarpere  nuno  violas,  nunc  summas  carpere  rnyrtos, 
Et  potui  LycidiB  certantem  audire  Menalcam  ! 
Ipse  etiam  tentare  ausus  sum,  nee  puto  multum 
Displicui,  nam  sunt  et  apud  me  munera  vestra 
Fiscells9,  calathique,  et  cerea  vincla  cicutse : 
Quin  et  nostra  suas  docuerunt  nomina  fagos 
Et  Datis,  et  Francinus,  erant  et  vocibus  ambo 
Et  studiis  noti,  Lydorum  sanguinis  ambo. 

Ite  domum  impasti,  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
Hsec  mihi  turn  Iseto  dictabat  roscida  luna, 
Dum  solus  teneros  claudebam  cratibus  baados. 
Ah  quoties  dixi,  cum  te  cinis  ater  habebat, 
Nunc  canit,  aut  lepori  nunc  tendit  retia  Damon, 
Vimina  nunc  texit,  varios  sibi  quod  sit  in  usus  ! 
Et  qua9  turn  facili  sperabam  mente  futura 
Arripui  voto  levis,  et  prsesentia  finxi : 
"  Heus  bone  numquid  agis  ?  nisi  te  quid  forte  retarda  t, 
Imus  ?  et  argutA,  paulum  recubamus  in  umbra, 
Aut  ad  aquas  Colni,  aut  ubi  jugera  Cassibelauni  ? 
Tu  mihi  percurres  medicos,  tua  gramina,  succos, 
Helleborumque,  humilesque,  crocos,  foliumque,  hyacinthi, 
Quasque  habet  ista  palus  herbas,  artesque  medentum." 
Ah  pereant  berbse,  pereant  artesque  medentum, 
Gramina,  postquam  ipsi  nil  profecere  magistro. 
Tpse  etiam,  nam  nescio  quid  mihi  grande  sonabat 
Fistula,  ab  undeciina  jam  lux  est  altera  nocte, 
Et  turn  forte  novis  adm6ram  labra  cicutis, 
Dissiluere  tamen  rupta  compage,  nee  ultra 
Ferre  graves  potuere  sonos  ;  dubito  quoque  ne  sim 
Turgidulus,  tamen  et  referam ;  vos  cedite,  sylvaj. 

Ite  domum  impasti,  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 


POEMATA.  565 

1'pse  ego  Dardanias  Rutupina  per  sequora  puppes 
Dicain,  et  Pandrasidos  regnum  vetus  Inogeniae, 
Brennumqfte  Arvigarumque  duces,  priscumque  Belimum. 
Et  tandem  Armoricos  Britonum  sub  lege  colonos ; 
Turn  gravidam  Arturo  fatali  fraude  Idgernen, 
Mendaces  vultus,  assumptaque  Gorloi's  arma, 
Meiiini  dolus.     O  mihi  turn  si  vita  supersit, 
Tu  procul  annosa  pendebis  fistula  pinu 
Multum  oblita  mihi,  aut  patriis  mutata  Camoenis 
Brittonicum  strides,  quid  enim  ?  omnia  non  licet  uni ; 
Non  sperasse  uni  licet  omnia ;  mi  satis  ampla, 
Merces,  et  mihi  grande  decus  (sim  ignotus  in  aavum 
Turn  licet,  externo  penitusque  inglorius  orbi) 
Si  me  flava  comas  legat  Usa,  et  potor  Alauni, 
Yorticibusque  frequens  Abra,  et  nemus  omne  Treantaa, 
Et  Thamesis  meus  ante  omnes,  et  fusca  metallis 
Tamara,  et  extremis  me  discant  Orcades  undis. 

Ite  domum  impasti,  domino  jam  nou  vacat,  agni, 
Hsec  tibi  servabam  lentil  sub  cortice  lauri, 
Hsec,  et  plural  simul,  turn  quaa  mihi  pocula  Mansus, 
Mansus  Chalcidicaa  non  ultima  gloria  ripaa, 
Bina  dedit,  mirum  artis  opus,  rnirandus  et  ipse, 
Et  circum  gemino  caelaverat  argumento : 
In  medio  rubri  maris  unda,  et  odoriferum  ver, 
Littora  longa  Arabum,  et  sudantes  balsama  sylvso, 
Has  inter  Phoenix  divina  avis,  unica  terris, 
Caeruleum  fulgens  diversicoloribus  alis 
Auroram  vitreis  surgentem  respicit  undis. 
Parte  alia  polus  omnipatens,  et  magnus  Olympus. 
Quis  putet  ?  hie  quoque  Amor,  pictseque  in  nube  pharetrse, 
Arma  corusca  faces,  et  spicula  tincta  pyropo ; 
ISTec  tenues  animas,  pectusque  ignobile  vulgi 
Hinc  ferit,  ad  circum  flammantia  lumina  torquens 
Semper  in  erectum  spargit  sua  tela  per  orbes 
Impiger,  et  pronos  nunquam  collimat  ad  ictus, 
Hinc  mentes  ardere  sacrse,  formaeque  deorum. 

Tu  quoque  in  his,  nee  me  fallit  spec  lubrica,  Damon, 
Tu  quoque  in  his  certe  es,  nam  qu6  tua  dulcis  abiret 
Sanctaque  simplicitas,  nam  qu6  tua  Candida  virtus  ? 
Nee  te  Lethaoo  fas  quaasivisse  sub  orco, 
Nee  tibi  conveniunt  lacrymaa,  nee  flebimus  ultr^i, 
Ite  procul  lacrymaa,  purum  colit  aathera  Damon, 
^Ethera  purus  habet,  pluvium  pede  reppulit  arcum ; 


5GG  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Ueroumque  animas  inter,  divosque  perennes, 
^Ethereos  haurit  latices,  est  gaudia  potat 
Ore  sacro.     Quin  tu  coeli  post  jura  recepta 
Dexter  ades,  placidusque  fave  quicunque  vocaris, 
Seu  tu  noster  eris  Damon,  sive  sequior  audis 
Diodotus,  quo  te  divino  nomine  cuncti 
Coelicolaa  n6rint,  sylvisque  vocabere  Damon. 
Qu6d  tibi  purpureus  pudor,  et  sine  labe  juventus 
Grata  fuit,  qudd  nulla  tori  libata  voluptas, 
En  etiam  tibi  virginei  servantur  honores ; 
Ipse  caput  nitidum  cinctus  rutilante  corona, 
Laataque  frondentis  gestans  umbracula  palmaa 
^Eternum  perages  imiuortales  hymenaaos ; 
Cantus  ubi,  choreisque  furit  lyra  mista  beatis, 
Festa  Sionaeo  bacchantur  et  Orgia  thyrso. 


AD  JOANNEM  EOUSIUM  OXONIENSIS  ACADEMIC 

BIBLIOTHECAR1UM. 

JANUARY  23, 1646. 

DC  libro  Poematum  amisso,  quern  ille  sibi  denuo  mitti  postulabat,  nt  CUIQ 
aliis  nostris  in  Bibliotheca  publica  reponeret,  ode. 

STROPHE  I. 

GEMELLE  cultu  sirnplici  gaudens  liber, 

Fronde  licet  gemina, 

Munditieque  niteas  non  operos^, 

Quam  manus  attulit 

Juvenilis  olim, 

Sedula  tamen  baud  nimii  poetas ; 

Dum  vagus  Ausonias  nunc  per  umbras, 

Nunc  Britannica  per  vireta  lusit 

Insons  populi,  barbitoque  devius 

Indulsit  patrio,  niox  itidem  pectine  Daunio 

Longinquum  intonuit  melos 

Vicinis,  et  humum  vix  tetigit  pede : 

AKTISTROPHE. 

Quis  te  parve  liber,  quis  te  fratribus 
Subduxit  reliquis  dolo  ? 


POEM  AT  A.  567 

Cuin  tu  missus  ab  urbe, 
Docto  jugiter  obsecrante  amico, 
Illustre  tendebas  iter 
Thamesis  ad  incunabula 
Caarulei  patris, 
Fontes  ubi  limpidi 
Aonidum,  thyasusque  sacer 
Orbi  notus  per  immensos 
Temporum  lapsus  redeunte  coelo, 
Celeberque  futurus  in  sevum  ? 

STROPHE  II. 

Mod6  quis  deus,  aut  editus  deo 

Pristinam  gentis  miseratus  indolem, 

(Si  satis  noxas  luimus  priores, 

Mollique  luxu  degener  otium,) 

Tollat  nefandos  civium  tumultus, 

Almaque  revocet  studia  sanctus, 

Et  relegatas  sine  sede  Musas 

Jam  pene  totis  finibus  Angligenum ; 

Immundasque  volucres 

Unguibus  imminentes 

Figat  Apolline£  pharetra, 

Phineamque  abigat  pestem  procul  am^e  Pagaseo  ( 

ANTISTROPHE. 

Quin  tu,  libelle,  nuntii  licet  mala 

Fide,  vel  oscitanti£, 

Semel  erraveris  agmine  fratrum, 

Seu  quis  te  teneat  specus, 

Sen  qua  te  latebra,  forsan  unde  vili. 

Callo  tereris  institoris  insulsi, 

LsBtare  felix,  en  iterum  tibi 

Spes  nova  fulget  posse  profundain 

Fugere  Lethen,  vehique  superam 

In  Jovis  aulam  remige  penn& : 

STROPHE  III. 

Nam  te  Koiisius  sui 

Optat  peculi,  numeroque  justo 

Sibi  pollicitum  queritur  abesse, 


568  MILTON'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

Rogatque  venias  ille  cujus  inclyta 

Stint  data  virum  monumenta  curaa : 

Teque  adytis  etiam  sacris 

Voluit  reponi,  quibus  et  ipse  praesidet 

^Eternorum  operum  ctistos  fidelis ; 

Qu89storque  gazte  nobilioris, 

Qukm  cui  prsefuit  Ion, 

Clarus  Erechtheides, 

Opulenta  del  per  templa  parentis, 

Fulvosque  tripodas,  donaque  Delphica, 

Ion  Actsea  genitus  Creusa. 

ANTISTROPIIE. 

Ergo  tn  visere  lucos 

Musarnm  ibis  amoenos, 

Diamque  Phoebi  rursus  ibis  in  donium, 

Oxonia  quara  valle  colit, 

Delo  posthabita, 

Bifidoque  Parnassi  jugo : 

Ibis  honestus, 

Postquam  egregiam  tu  quoque  sortem 

ISTactus  abis,  dextri  prece  sollicitatus  amicl. 

Illic  legeris  inter  alta  nomina 

Anthorum,  Graiaa  simul  et  Latinse 

Antiqua  gentis  lumina,  et  verum  decus. 

EPODOS. 

Yos  tandem  hand  vacni  mei  labores, 

Qnicquid  hoc  sterile  fudit  ingenium, 

Jam  ser6  placidam  sperare  jubeo 

Perfnnctam  invidia  requiem,  sedesque  beatas, 

Quas  bonus  Hermes 

Et  tntela  dabit  solers  Roiisi,  [qne  long^ 

Quo  neque  lingua  procax  vulgi  penetrabit,  at- 

Turba  legentum  parva  facesset ; 

At  ultimi  nepotes, 

Et  cordatior  89tas, 

Indicia  rebus  sequiora  forsitan 

Adhibebit  integro  sinu. 

Turn,  livore  sepulto, 

Si  quid  meremur  sana  posteritas  sciet, 

Roiisio  favente. 


POEMATA.  5U9 

Ode  tribus  constat  Strophis,  totidernque  Antistrophis,  una  demum  Epodo 
clausis,  quas,  tametsi  omnes  nee  versuum  numero,  nee  certis  ubique  colis 
exacto  respondeant,  ita  tatnen  secuimus,  commode  legend!  potius,  qu£m  ad 
antiques  concinendi  modos,  rationem  spectantes.  Alioquin  hoc  genus  rectius 
fortasse  dici  monostrophicum  debuerat  Metra  partim  sunt  KarH  cxiaiv, 
partim  aroXcXu/ifva.  Phaleucia  qu»  sunt,  spondasum  tertio  loco  bis  ad» 
raittunt,  quod  idem  in  secundo  loco  Catullus  ad  libitum  fecit. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

INTRODUCTION ,    .  3 

LIFE  OF  MILTON 23 

PARADISE  LOST «    ,  43 

PARADISE  REGAINED 305 

SAMSON  AGONISTES ,  357 

POEMS  ON  SEVERAL  OCCASIONS — 

i.  On  the  death  of  a  fair  infant 413 

ii.  Anno  setatis  xix 415 

in.  On  the  morning  of  Christ's  nativity 418 

iv.  The  passion 424 

v.  On  time 426 

vi.  Upon  the  circumcision ib. 

vii.  At  a  solemn  music 427 

vin.  An  epitaph  on  the  Marchioness  of  Winchester 428 

ix.  Song  on  May  morning 430 

x.  On  Shakspeare ib. 

xi.  On  the  University  Carrier 431 

xn.  Another  on  the  same ib. 

xm.  L' Allegro 432 

xiv.  II  Penseroso 436 

xv.  Arcades 440 

xvi.  COMUS,  a  mask 444 

xvn.  Lycidas 472 

KVIII.  The  fifth  ode  of  Horace 477 

Ad  Pyrrham,  Ode  V ib. 


572  CONTENTS. 

PAGB 

xix.  On  the  new  forcers  of  conscience  under  the  Long 

Parliament 478 

SONNETS — 

I.  To  the  nightingale 479 

ii.  Donna  leggiadra,  &c ib. 

in.  Qual  in  colle  aspro,  &c 480 

Canzone ib. 

iv.  Diodati,  &c ib. 

v.  Per  certo  i  bei,  &c 481 

vi.  Giovane  piano,  &c ib. 

vn.  On  his  being  arrived  at  the  age  of  twenty-three . . .  482 

vin.  When  the  assault  was  intended  to  the  city ib. 

ix.  To  a  virtuous  young  lady 483 

x.  To  the  Lady  Margaret  Ley ib. 

xi.  On  the  detraction  which  followed  upon  my  writing 

certain  treatises 484 

xn.  On  the  same ib. 

xin.  To  Mr.  H.  Lawes,  on  his  airs 485 

xiv.  On  the  religious  memory  of  Mrs.  Catharine  Thorn- 
son,  my  Christian  friend ib. 

xv.  To  the  Lord  General  Fairfax 486 

xvi.  To  the  Lord  General  Cromwell ib. 

xvn.  To  Sir  Henry  Vane  the  Younger 487 

xvin.  On  the  late  massacre  in  Piedmont ib 

xix.  On  his  blindness ib. 

xx.  To  Mr.  Lawrence 488 

xxi.  To  Cyriac  Skinner ib. 

xxn.  To  the  same 489 

xxin.  On  his  deceased  wife ib. 

PSALMS — 

Psalm  1 491 

Psalm  II ib. 

Psalm  III 492 

Psalm  IV 493 

Psalm  V 494 

Psalm  VI 495 

Psalm  VII 496 

Psalm  VIII 498 

Psalm  LXXX.  .  .  ib 


CONTENTS.  5T3 

PAGE 

Psalm  LXXXI 500 

Psalm  LXXXII 502 

Psalm  LXXXIII i  503 

Psalm  LXXXTV 505 

Psalm  LXXXV 506 

Psalm  LXXXVI 507 

Psalm  LXXXYII 509 

Psalm  LXXXVIII 510 

A  paraphrase  on  Psalm  CXIV 511 

Psalm  CXXXVI 512 

JOHANNIS  MlLTONI  LONDINENBIS  POEMATA 515 

ELEGIARUM  LIBER  PRIMUS — 

Elegia  prima 521 

Elegia  secunda 523 

Elegia  tertia 524 

Elegia  quarta 526 

Elegia  quinta 529 

Elegia  sexta 532 

Elegia  septima 534 

EPIGRAMMATUM  LIBER — 

In  proditionem  bombardicam 538 

In  eandem ib. 

In  eandem ib. 

In  eandem 539 

In  inventorem  bombardae ib. 

Ad  Leonoram  Romae  Canentem ib. 

Ad  eandem ib. 

Ad  eandem 540 

Apologus  de  rustico  et  hero ib. 

Ad  Christinam  suecorum  reginam  nomine  Crom- 
welli 541 

SYLVARUM  LIBER — 

In  obi  turn  procancellarii  medici 542 

In  quinturn  Novenibris 543 

In  obitum  Prsesulis  Eliensis 548 

Naturam  non  pati  senium 550 

De  idea  platonica  quemadmodum  Aristoteles  in- 

tellexit  . ,  .  552 


574  CONTENTS. 

PAG! 

Ad  patrem 553 

Psalm  CXIV 556 

Ad  Salsillum,  poetam  Roinanum,  aegrotantem 557 

Mansus 558 

Epitaphium  Damonis 56] 

Ad  Joannem  Rousium  Oxoniensis  Academic  Bibii- 
othecarium .  566 


THE     END. 


YA  01545 


ft 107303 


938 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


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